Starfall
by Slide
Summary: The world is changing. Governments collapse. Dark magic rises. An old enemy returns with new allies and motives as shrouded as ever. How far would you go for justice? How far would you fall for vengeance? - The sequel to Ignite.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She could hear the screaming, which was good; it meant she was in the right place.

Her footsteps rang out, echoing through the gloom as Eva Saida walked the long, dark corridor, the light of her wand casting erratic shadows on the cold grey stone of the walls. The air down here was musky and damp, and under the wailing of agony and her own approach she could hear the trickle of leaking water.

The old castle had been abandoned for a long time. Seventy-eight years, to be precise, since the fall of those who had last made it great, even if such an ascendance had turned out to be nothing more than a futile clamouring for the grandeur of the past. The corridors above - those they could access - had been lined with dusty, ruined paintings of ancient warriors and wizards staring in judgement at her for her intrusion, for her blood.

She hadn't cared.

A figure lounged next to the door to her destination, which was heavy and metal and almost rusted away, useful now only for the magical enchantments around it they had resurrected. He was small but broad-shouldered, sallow-faced and with long, greasy dark hair, and leered at her as she approached. She ignored him, too, and reached for the door.

'Nobody's supposed to interrupt -'

But his hand was only on her wrist for a second before she'd twisted his grip so she had a hold of him instead. She slammed him against the cold stone wall face-first, arm twisted behind his back, and her voice dropped to a low growl. 'First: don't tell me what to do, or where to go. Second - and this is most important, Downing - don't touch me. Ever.'

Elijah Downing gave a pained gasp. 'Orders from him.'

'Which "him"? Because there's only one I give a damn about.'

'The Colonel, of course!' Then Downing had planted his heel in her shin and she hissed in pain, letting him go. He turned his back to the wall, hand on his wand, dark eyes glinting at her. 'He said nobody was to interrupt them.'

Saida watched Downing, watched him not pull his wand. She could best him, but wouldn't underestimate him. He was a vicious piece of work. 'Raskoph's upstairs. Thane asked me to come here. And you follow Thane's orders, still.'

His lip curled. 'Don't you go questionin' my loyalties. I was workin' for Thane all this year while you were pissin' around who-knows-where.'

'Oh, yes.' A sardonic tone tugged at her voice. 'Fighting in the forests of Hogwarts. Truly an epic war which tied you together as brothers. Tell me, Downing, was it three schoolchildren who captured you, or four?'

'Five,' he sneered. 'An' yer precious Thane was bested only by one, weren't he?'

She tutted. 'Careful, Downing. You never know who's listening.'

'What, you'll run off an' tell him, like a good little bitch?'

She considered beating him to a pulp and enjoyed the thought. But she had work to do. 'Just remember whose orders you follow. And they're not the old man's, and they're not even mine.'

'I do what the Colonel says because Thane tells me to listen to him. Maybe you should consider not pissin' off our employers quite so bad, Saida. We're not all like you; some of us do this for the pay, not the _thrills_.'

'Downing, I'm down in this grimy cellar with you. I assure you, I'm not here for the thrills,' Saida said, and turned for the door to the cell. This time he did not stop her.

The screaming had cut out occasionally through their argument, though it remained regular, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock, the silence only ever lasting so long. A small smile curled her lips, not with pleasure at the screaming - she cared not one jot one way or another for that - but simply with admiration at the meticulousness.

There were three people in the cell. Two of them were tied by magical bindings that glowed at their ankles and wrists and thus unable to move from the heavy metal chairs that had been bolted to the stone floor almost a century ago for exactly this purpose. One was a man, grey-haired and in old robes, face lined and worn. His spectacles had fallen on the floor and for the moment he was sagged forward, head bowed, blood encrusted across his chin. It was he who had been doing the screaming.

The other was a woman - a girl, really. She was about Saida's age, which meant conventional wisdom would call her a girl, though Saida had stopped considering herself a child by age fourteen and the past five years had done nothing to walk her maturity back.

But this woman's eyes were younger, far younger, even if they were piling on the years with every moment she watched the old man's plight. She was dark-haired and pretty and tears wiped rivers of clear skin across her grimy face.

It was to the third figure that Saida's attention went, however. Even in the gloomy passages underground, Prometheus Thane looked at home and in control. Colonel Raskoph had directed them here and was the one claiming the authority over them and the castle, but when they had crossed the threshold into the remains of ancient halls of noble power, it had been Thane who looked like the prodigal son come home to return them to greatness. And the entire ruin had looked like it was half-restored already just by his arrival.

Even here, with his sleeves rolled up with blood across his hands, she thought he looked lordly. Tall and pale, blond hair swept back, his were handsome features finely-chiselled, with strong cheekbones and a straight nose. Pale blue eyes fixed on a person and made promises or threats that sank to your heart and you couldn't help but believe.

Raskoph had been delighted with him on sight. But then, Raskoph was crazy. Saida was not but she, too, found him entrancing.

Thane looked at her only briefly, as if her arrival was inconsequential, before his gaze turned to the old man. 'This is your last chance, Professor,' he said, voice cold. 'Where is it?'

The old man spat out a mouthful of blood, and as Saida looked to the stone floor she could see Thane had been taking his teeth. That would be, she mused, the cause of the screaming. But when he lifted his head, there was only determination glinting in his eyes. 'Go to hell.'

'Some day,' said Thane, as if he'd just been invited to a lovely picnic but had a terribly troublesome prior commitment. 'But not today.'

Then he looked between Saida and the girl in the other chair. Saida didn't hesitate before she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the back of the girl's head. '_Avada Kedavra_.'

'_No_-!' But the old man's strangled scream cut itself off at the flash of green light, and the girl slumped without a sound. 'She was my assistant!' he roared, German accent thicker in his distress. 'She knew nothing!'

'Which is why she was the one punished for your misdemeanour.' Thane walked over to the old man and spoke as if he were a misbehaving schoolboy. He hunkered down next to the chair so they were more of a height and continued talking in the same melodious, calm voice. 'You have no wife, not any more. My condolences. But you have... a son. Grandchildren. They're not here, for certain, but we can find them and we _will_ find them. If more punishments must be given. Which they must be, if you remain silent.'

There was no response but the Professor's weeping as he slumped on his chair, head bowed, shoulders shaking with racking, heaving sobs of pain, anguish, and helplessness.

'I will leave you to reflect on this for a little,' said Thane, and gestured to Saida for them to both head for the door.

Downing opened and swung it shut behind them, and went to fall into step as they carried on down the corridor, but Thane lifted a hand. 'No, watch him,' he said. 'And listen for if he starts to talk to himself again.'

Downing scowled but remained at his post, and so Saida followed Thane down the long, grimy tunnel that would soon lead to the stairs up into the belly of the castle ruins. Thane did not speak until they were long past anyone's earshot. 'They found nothing?'

'They found many things. Wonderous things. But not the Chalice,' said Saida with a sigh. 'Raskoph could shatter the world with half of what his brethren brought here, but he wants only one cup.'

'This "cup" could be the key to everything,' said Thane. 'Without the Resurrection Stone...' He stopped at the foot of the steps and peered up into the gloomy sunlight that broke through grey skies above and past grey ruins further down and so barely reached this underground passageway.

Saida said nothing. She had heard how furious the Council of Thorns had been with Prometheus Thane for losing the Resurrection Stone at Hogwarts. She, herself, had been bewildered at how this unbeatable man had been outwitted by schoolchildren, but Thane had been so blunt and matter-of-fact about the issue that she suspected there was more than he was telling them.

But she didn't press, and she didn't doubt. He would have a reason. He always did.

'No,' said Thane at last, as if concluding an internal debate with himself. 'The Chalice must be found if the Council's plans are to continue.'

'_Must_ we work with Raskoph, if the Chalice isn't here?'

'He's the one the Council gave this task -'

'Because they thought the Chalice was in the hands of his old compatriots. It would seem it's not, so that makes him nothing more than a crazy old relic of a crazy old time.'

Thane gave a smile, one of those small ones which said he was genuinely amused. 'My dear Eva,' he sighed, 'do you not approve of our employers?'

'I _nothing_ the Council. But they're the ones paying me. Raskoph is not.'

'Raskoph is one of them.'

'One of many.'

His smile remained, and she would have sworn it softened when he stepped over, lifting a hand to her chin. He was the only person who didn't make her flinch when they touched her, and so when his fingertip brushed the scar that puckered at the left side of her jawline, she let him tilt her face up to him.

'Always so angry, Eva,' he mused. 'But we'll have to be patient. I know this is nothing more than a relic hunt. I know the Council of Thorns has other plans in the world and other plans even for Phlegethon. This might be a wild goose chase. But it's the job they've assigned to us, and after my failure at Hogwarts I am in no position to negotiate with them.'

'Even if one of them ordered you to lose the Resurrection Stone?' She hadn't know, not for sure, that her suspicion was accurate until that moment. His face, as ever, was perfectly poised, but she felt a tension in his touch, the tell of his obfuscation she wouldn't have had if his fingertips weren't still at her chin.

Which was why she'd waited before asking so bluntly.

'I was unlucky at Hogwarts,' said Thane with no other sign of hesitation. 'It does happen to us all. Which is why they make us chase ghost stories with a loon of an age that's bygone even by the Council's standards. But be patient, Eva. If we find the Chalice, we will be _more_ than restored in their eyes. We will be lauded. Elevated.'

'You mean you will,' said Saida as he dropped his hand, not at all begrudging. That was just how this worked.

'The Professor will talk,' Thane said, as if she hadn't spoken. 'He'll break now. I give him an hour before Downing comes along. I wish such extreme methods weren't needed, but he'll talk, and he'll tell us where to go. And then we can be out of this hateful place.'

'Even if we have to keep Raskoph, I look forward to it.'

'Let me handle the Colonel. He is, after all, easily led. All we have to do is let him think he has the power and he is as satisfied as a child with cake. Now.' Thane straightened. 'Make ready our equipment for departure. I'm sure by the time you're done, the Professor will have us our next heading.'

Saida inclined her head respectfully and without another word turned to pad up the steps. She was halfway before Thane called out again, voice casual, like he was saying nothing of importance.

'They will restore and elevate me if we find the Chalice, yes. But you know I do not forget competence. You know I do not forget loyalty. And you know I could never forget _you_, Eva.'

She stopped but didn't turn, and for a moment she could close her eyes and imagine he was saying that to her as anything other than a trusted subordinate. Even if he had saved her, made her, elevated her from the harsh streets of Algiers and shown her the wondrous world of magic all those years ago, she knew in his eyes she was barely above the likes of Downing.

But she _was_ above them in his regard, and that was enough. Or, she mused as she simply nodded and carried on up the stairs, it would have to be.

* * *

_A/N: Welcome to Starfall, the sequel to Ignite. Don__'t worry, we'll get to our old favourites very soon, but in the meantime, enjoy this snippet of darkness. Many thanks to each and every one of you who's given your support to Ignite in the past, and jumped with me into this new adventure. I'm hoping it's a doozy. So, without further ado, on with the show!_


	2. Dream On

**Dream On**

Scorpius Malfoy suspected heroes were either dead or liars, or perhaps both: liars who committed feats of fiction until a truth too big to be beguiled came along and their story met a mundane, bloody end. Then they rested in the ground alongside men more honest, men more courageous, men who had made more of a difference but were, in the end, no less dead.

He suspected this because the country called him a hero when he still lived, he suspected this because he had lied and lied again about his deeds, however necessarily, and he suspected this because he had personally known exactly one hero in his life, and Methuselah Jones was dead.

The fact that he lived under the roof of Harry Potter did not dispel him of these suspicions. It was not that he thought Harry Potter a liar, and Harry Potter was most certainly not dead, but his heroics had taken place decades earlier. The world, they said, was changing. And this had never been clearer to him than on a winter's day in the depths of a forest shrouded in shadow when a figure wreathed in the wings of a white eagle plunged into darkness. And won. And died.

'_Not foolishness. Simply sensible. After all. I'm the best at this.'_

Scorpius woke with a start, like he always did when he dreamed that nightmare, and smothered the echo of a scream on his lips calling a dead man back. For a long moment there was nothing but the thudding of his heart in his chest, the gasping of breath tearing from his throat, and the shadow of a silhouette against silver flames when he closed his eyes.

So he stared at the ceiling and tried to stay quiet so he didn't wake Albus.

The Potters had offered to clear out Harry's study, or perhaps James' old bedroom, so Scorpius could have a room of his own instead of bunking with Albus. It was not only humility that had him refusing. A room to himself was not a luxury; it was his prison of a bedroom at Malfoy Manor, or the guest room at Hogwarts he'd slept in for a five-month crisis. Home was a four-poster bed with emerald drapes and his best friend near enough to talk with until late into the night about everything and nothing. Being here was not quite right, but the sound of Albus' gently rumbling snore filling the room made it close enough.

With a pang of guilt, Scorpius slid out of his camp bed and reached for his jeans. He didn't need to wear Muggle clothing to antagonise his father any more - he did that, now, just by existing - but they were comfortable, hard-wearing, and close to hand. He pulled them on, as well as a t-shirt and his knitted green jumper and slid out the door barefoot, pausing only once in the corridor to make sure Albus' sleep was not disturbed.

It wasn't that he couldn't talk to Albus about what was on his mind. It was just that there was nothing new to _say_.

He stayed light-footed down the corridor as he passed Lily's bedroom, trotted down the stairs and avoided the third step from the bottom, which creaked, then grabbed his boots by the front door and slunk out the back. April was dying and turning to May but it was still night, and Scorpius still suppressed a shiver as he made sure he was in the clear, pulled out his wand, and turned on the spot to disapparate from Godric's Hollow.

He'd got his licence when Albus did, after his friend's seventeenth, and the liberty was invigorating. The Potters were happy to remain hands-off while he stayed with them, granting him his freedom and his privacy, but for weeks he had been dependent on Floo, which was the least-discreet method of coming and going he knew of.

And it had made these night-time escapades impossible.

He appeared in a different back garden and looked around to make sure he'd not been spotted. It was still ingrained from his training to make sure an apparition was Magically Secure and had not won attention from Muggles, though this time his concern was more for a sharp-eyed, angry father. But this back garden - huge and sprawling behind the old converted rectory that housed this cadet branch of the Weasley family - was bathed in the shadows of its tall trees and thick bushes, and he was safe.

Not approaching the back door, with a healthy respect for the wards that protected this place and did not recognise him the way the ones at the Potter house did, Scorpius instead made for the gravel path winding through the garden to select a pebble and set his gaze on an upper floor rear window.

His first pebble missed. So did the second one. The third, however, _thunked_ against the glass. He grinned, and waited.

And waited.

Then shuffled around for another pebble. This time he hit on the second try, and didn't stop throwing pebbles until there was a twitch of a curtain, at which point he was struck by the terrible fear that he'd got the wrong window, even though he knew he hadn't. But there was nothing for it other than to wave cheerfully and wait as the curtain fell back into place. And to silently pray he'd correctly woken Rose as intended, and not something awful like got her parents' room instead.

When the back door opened he felt some of the tension flee his spine as he saw her, and she finished tugging on her shoes to crunch across the gravel to join him, light as she could be.

'Scorpius, what're you _doing_ here?' Despite the admonishment in her words her eyes were dancing and she did a poor job of suppressing the smile.

'This,' he said with a decisive air, grabbing her by the wrist when she reached him and pulling her into a kiss. One arm slid around her waist as the other hand buried itself in her red hair still wild from sleep, her hands grabbed greedy fistfuls of his jumper and he realised they had done this far, far too little. Privacy was no easy thing in either of their busy, family homes, and while they could steal an afternoon together it was harder now than it even would have been at Hogwarts in normalcy to find somewhere the rest of the world could fade away. At Hogwarts in crisis there had been no parents looking over shoulders, no teachers who accounted for their whereabouts, no fellow students in classes or dorms to be in the way.

Then they'd had all the opportunity, but no time. Now they had time, but scant opportunity.

When she broke the kiss she stayed close, burrowed up against his chest, her eyelashes drooping, sleepy, satisfied. She brushed her nose against his. 'You didn't come here just for that.'

'I might have done,' said Scorpius, and in that moment couldn't think of a better reason to apparate somewhere in the middle of the night.

'Except you're going to see me in a few hours anyway?'

'Yeah, but Al will be there. He gets super awkward if I try to seduce you in front of him.'

A smile played across her lips. 'Oh, so that's what you're doing now?'

'If I were really seducing you, love,' Scorpius said, his own smirk intact, 'you wouldn't need to ask.'

Her brown eyes, usually so keen and assessing, softened. Because she could analyse facts and figures and solve problems, and somehow she'd managed to turn that same analysis on him and yet _hadn__'t turned away_. Her fingers ran down his shoulder to take a firmer, but less furtive hold of his forearm. 'What's wrong?'

He would be lying to say he never lied to her. Because he would, and he had, and he could, and sometimes he even got away with it, because Scorpius Malfoy was experienced at his masks and his obfuscations. He could lie to Albus Potter, but then he felt guilty about it afterwards.

He could lie to Rose Weasley, and feel even guiltier about it afterwards, but the maddening thing was that, more and more, he didn't _want_ to lie to her.

And tonight he'd sought her out without really thinking about it.

'Nothing new,' he said, and winced when he realised it sounded like an evasion. If nothing else it was a shoddy thing to do, to come out here and wake her in the middle of the night and then brush it off. 'I just couldn't sleep.'

Her fingertips to brushed along his temples. 'Jones?'

He grimaced. 'Always Jones.'

Then she'd taken his hand and was leading him further from the house, deeper into the garden cast in blackened silver by the dark filter of night that the shine of the moon and stars pierced. The garden was huge, but Rose knew it well, had grown up here, had lived a normal childhood of playing in and amongst the trees and bushes with her parents, her brother, her cousins.

He had grown up with flat lawns he shouldn't run on, exquisitely trimmed hedges he shouldn't hide in, water features he shouldn't climb, and white peacocks he was never supposed to chase. For the thousandth time he envied her childhood and envied her family.

It was to an old swing-seat that she led him, nestled around the back of a large rhododendron bush that curled away from the house before the garden ended and the long slope down to the orchard beyond began. She didn't stumble in the dark or need to check her bearings and so he trusted her to guide him through the gloom. The wooden seat creaked as they sat on it, but she crawled under his arm and nestled against him in the chilly night air and so he had no desire to act on his distrust of the contraption's stability.

'You can't blame yourself, you know,' Rose murmured.

'What says I do?'

'Me. I know you.' She looked up at him, that assessing glint back in her eye. 'You thought you should have gone instead of him.'

'It would have been silly.' _I'm the best at this_. 'He was the only one who could have done it. If he hadn't, the ritual would have overloaded and we'd all be dead. Maybe everyone in Hogwarts, too.'

'So why _do_ you still blame yourself?'

Scorpius looked away, watching the shadows of the trees in the orchard, like silhouetted soldiers lining up to judge him. 'Because he was a guy smart enough to do that. To save everyone. A guy smart enough to break Hogwarts' wards. Who can say what he'd have gone on to do? While - I mean, what am I?'

She pulled away from under his arm and for a moment the chill at her absence was freezing - not for the night air but for the thought, that thought which perpetually lingered in his mind, that she'd had enough, that she would go. But then she had moved to sit on his lap and he couldn't see the cider apple trees any more, just her, the curls of her red hair tickling his cheeks as she tilted his face up to be level with hers.

'You know that's not a line of thinking to go down. Methuselah Jones was smart and he was brave - and he was also an insufferable, thoughtless prat at times. He was our friend. And I miss him too.' Her fingertips played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and warmth began to spill through him. 'But when I thought it was you who'd gone into the centre, I...'

Her voice trailed off, the dauntless Rose Weasley for once at a loss for words, and so he decided to make it simpler by leaning up to kiss her again. She arched against him as he pulled her closer and now, when he closed his eyes, there was no silhouette wreathed in silver flames - only her. Just her, and no world beyond.

When she pulled back she pressed her forehead against his and met his gaze fiercely. 'So, in summary, don't you dare wish you were dead instead.'

'...if that's the summary of your argument, I think I want to go through some of the major debate points another time, just to be clear -' She kissed him, but only briefly this time, and he sobered as they broke the embrace, letting out a shaky exhale. 'I know it's stupid. But I don't always know that in the middle of the night. I just needed... this.' He met her gaze. 'Thanks.'

Rose's smile was small but firm. 'Every time.' Her fingertips toyed with the neckline of his jumper. 'Have you got your jobs sorted for tomorrow?'

'Oh, Merlin, I come here for midnight angst and snogging and instead get nagged on if I did my errands -'

Her eyes lit up indignantly. 'I consider it "emotional support" and if you haven't paid your final deposit on our portkey package then we lose the lot for all _four_ of us...'

'It's paid!'

'...and I know you can afford it, you've just been _lazy_, swanning around tea shops with Albus all day.'

Scorpius' eyes narrowed. 'We also go to Quidditch shops and drink pints in the Leaky Cauldron, but I want to _thank_ you for picking the visits to the _tea shops_ as the part to mention.'

'I swear last time you talked more about the new lemon slice when you got back than you did about the Quidditch scores.'

'They were _really good_ lemon slices and you're perfectly welcome to come along and try them next time -'

'No, no.' Rose tilted her nose skyward. 'I wouldn't want to interrupt your manly conversations over tea and cake.'

His gaze only darkened. 'Have _you_ done _your_ jobs?'

'Of course I have; I have a full inventory of our packing, of the tents and food supplies and a decent medical kit and about twelve different language phrase-books...'

'Oh, Merlin, forget I asked -'

'You need this holiday. _We_ need this holiday.' Rose's gaze grew more sincere as she looked down at him, voice dropping. 'We'll go see exciting places and get away from the dreary headlines, and friends still getting over Phlegethon, and fussing parents...' Her fingertips continued to play with the collar of his jumper. '...and sometimes get a bit away from Albus and Hestia...'

His hands slid to her waist and he turned, toppling her off his lap and onto her back on the seat. Before she could rise he'd moved, his lips finding hers again, and then they were a tumble of limbs and breathlessness on the secluded swing-seat behind the bush far, far away from any of the interferences she'd just mentioned.

Scorpius' fingertips brushed along her neck and he could feel her pulse pounding in her throat under his touch, a beat to match the thudding in his own heart. He trailed his thumb up to her chin, a coaxing touch to deepen the kiss, and her lips parted under his, eager, encouraging. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, her body rising against his as his other hand slid up from her waist. His fingertips toyed with the hem of the bottom of the t-shirt she'd thrown on before coming out, then slipped under, finding warm, bare skin underneath.

The kiss broke as her breath caught at his touch and he let it, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. 'I said you'd not need to ask if I was seducing you,' Scorpius said, voice like it had been dragged all the way down the gravel path from the house, 'but for the record, this is it.' He paused, and swallowed, and fought back every instinct that told him to just kiss her again. 'Are you okay?'

Her eyes were dark, dark from the shadows of the rhododendron bush, the starlit night sky, and the thrill of him, but the new breath she drew was shaky. 'I'm fine. Better than fine. But it's a bit late.'

'Technically, it's a bit early.' But his voice was lighter now, more joking, and when he smiled she smiled with him. He kissed her again, though this time the brush of his lips was softer, more lingering, and sat up. 'But I guess you're right. I'll see you in a few hours.'

'I'd rather be awake for it. And not _horribly distracted_.' Her smile was a flash of light in the shadows, impish and pleased.

'I'm always distracting. But I'll let you get back to bed. Alone.' He sank back on the swing-seat and was unable to fight a smirk.

She got to her feet, reluctance in her eyes, and leaned down to him one last time. But her fingertips were at his chin as he straightened to meet what he thought was a goodnight kiss and she stopped him there, his lips locked a tantalising half-inch from hers. 'You keep teasing me, Scorpius Malfoy, and one day I might just take you up on it. And then you'll be in trouble.' Rose leaned in, but her lips were only the lightest of brushes against his, a promise and a taunt all in one, like the whisper of things to come. He closed his eyes, saw only her instead of the shadows of death, and when he opened them again he was on his own with the cider trees of the orchard stretching out before him.

Now they were less like a judging line, and more like co-conspirators in the dark. But he could see the eastern horizon from here, see the glow tugging the star-studded black velvet down from the sky with the reaching fingertips of the sun's first rays, and he reached for his wand. He'd rather not be caught out here by Rose's father.

Within moments he was back in the garden at the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, and dawn was definitely coming. He'd let his girlfriend distract him for frankly far too long, but Scorpius could only smirk at this, rather than reproach himself for it, as he padded to the back door to come into the kitchen.

And found himself face-to-face with the casual, tea-sipping form of Harry Potter, leaning against his kitchen counter and doing nothing more than looking at him and raising his eyebrows.

Scorpius stopped. 'Um.'

'I know my best stories always started with the word, "um,"' said Harry. 'Morning.'

'_Hi_.' Scorpius pursed his lips. '...any water left in the kettle?'

'Oh, help yourself. By all means.'

He did so, because making tea meant he didn't have to look at Harry Potter's knowing gaze, and tried to not feel guilty. He'd not been doing anything wrong. It wasn't as if Rose's parents disapproved of him or the relationship, or rather, Ron Weasley regarded him with the exact level of disapproval a father was entitled to hold for a seventeen year-old boy pursuing his daughter. He'd been over for dinner before and been utterly charming (he was sure), and Rose was an adult and there was hardly anything wrong with her sneaking out to her own back garden.

As for his end, the Potters had been brilliant enough to let him stay with them after he'd walked out on his father. They had fallen into the comfortable state of how the Potters wouldn't tell him what to do so long as he didn't behave in a way which demanded they do so. But he was a little bit too used to authority figures telling him he was wrong, so he flinched when Harry continued speaking. 'You were careful?'

'I wasn't -' Scorpius stopped himself and shovelled sugar into his mug. 'I just went to the Rectory.'

'I figured. Don't get me wrong, if I didn't think it was safe _there_ I most certainly wouldn't let Albus be going on this globe-trotting excursion.' Harry shrugged. 'I'm a father. It's my right to fuss.'

Scorpius winced. 'You won't tell Mr Weasley?'

'Why?' Harry's eyebrows went up. 'Is there something he needs telling?'

'No! No -'

'Then I don't see why I should get chatty. Ron can be very irrational sometimes. Gets these rage blackouts, it's a terrible thing.' He was clearly smothering a smile.

Scorpius couldn't quite return it. 'I just couldn't sleep. That was all.'

Harry nodded, gaze sobering. 'Anything you want to talk about?'

'It's fine,' he said automatically, then hesitated, stalling for time by taking a sip of tea that was really too hot, still. 'I don't - you've lost friends.'

Harry's gaze flickered. 'I have. And it does stay with you,' he said, voice careful. 'It's okay to feel bad. It's okay to feel absolutely terrible. But it's also okay to laugh, to smile, to have a good time, to not think about them. That doesn't mean you're forgetting them.'

Scorpius peered into his tea. 'I think I swing wildly between the two.'

'I don't know if there's such a thing as "normal" for this. But that seems pretty normal.' Harry nodded. 'You're right to go to your friends, to people who care about you. That helps.'

'Are you okay?' Scorpius hesitated as he heard how presumptuous he sounded. 'I mean, you're up early.'

Harry gave a small smile. 'I'm fine. I slept lightly and then the paper coming in woke me up.' The smile flickered. 'Then I read it.' He pushed the folded copy of the _Daily Prophet_ across the kitchen table.

Scorpius unfolded it with a flick of the wrist. '"_Brazillian Government Falls_."' He scowled and read on. 'Acosta and his people take over. Dark wizards abound in the new administration. And Acosta's not even hiding his ties to the Council of Thorns.'

'So now they're not just terrorists. They've seized a country.' Harry's lips were set in a very thin line. 'Are you sure going abroad's still a good idea?'

'We weren't going anywhere near South America anyway,' said Scorpius. 'And I'm not sure sitting around _here's_ much safer.'

'No,' sighed Harry, who had commented for weeks on the rise of dark magic violence. 'I suppose not.'

'The Portkey Passes get us anywhere we need to go. We'll stay in touch, and keep track of the news, and go nowhere troublesome. Venice first, and then wherever we fancy.' Venice's magical history mirrored its Muggle history enough that for centuries the city had dominated commerce across Europe, which had made it a major transport hub for international portkeys. Even today, with its role diminished and Venice itself absorbed into Italy, it was still the best place to start any trip, because it had so many powerful portkeys that from there a wizard could go far.

'I would feel more reassured if we knew what the Council wants. This lack of any agenda other than power, this propensity for using dark magic but championing whatever cause will bring them followers, it unnerves me,' Harry confessed. 'They prey most of all on bigotry because that will never go away. But in some places they've pursued more liberal agendas simply because there was a populace there who would support such causes. I can handle that. But it might be hard for you four to see trouble coming if we can't predict what they'll do next.'

Scorpius lifted a hand. 'First, we'll stick to places without great upheaval, which is still most of the world. Second, um.' He hesitated. 'Shouldn't you have this conversation with Albus?'

Harry sighed. 'I'm sorry. You're right, and it's not fair of me to put this on you, especially not when we've supported this for weeks and you're about to go.'

'Two days,' said Scorpius cheerfully.

'Then you should go. And have fun.'

'That's the plan.' Scorpius drained his mug and suppressed a yawn.

'Go get some sleep,' said Harry, watching him.

'It's past six -'

'And Rose won't be here until nine, so have a couple of hours sleep rather than snoozing through the meeting. Or I can imagine that'll make her irritable.' Harry smirked, but Scorpius couldn't argue with his logic. His poor night of sleep was catching up with him, and so he slouched to the stairs and managed to make it back into his camp-bed without waking Albus, who would hopefully have no idea he'd even slunk out.

And drifted back to sleep with more pleasant thoughts in his mind than before.

_'You keep teasing me, Scorpius Malfoy, and one day I might just take you up on it...'_

When he woke, sunlight was streaming through the open curtains, Albus' bed was empty, the clock on the bedside table said it was quarter past nine, and he could smell bacon. Only one of these facts made him want to emerge from his cocoon of warmth.

He needed a shower but he definitely wanted bacon, so compromised with a dressing gown and some old fuzzy slippers of James' he had stolen on account of their being warm and also hilarious. Thus it was in fashionable attire that he made his way down the stairs, and frowned when he found the only people in the house to be Albus and Rose.

They were in the kitchen, Rose sat with a mug of tea and her hair tied back and looking as if she'd slept the sleep of the virtuous, while Albus was seeing about cooking breakfast. He was scrambling eggs at that moment, and grinned up at the doorway when he spotted Scorpius before looking to Rose.

'I told you the smell would wake him. Morning, sleepyhead. Can you believe he slept through my alarm?'

Rose lifted her eyes from her mug and bit her lower lip. 'Appalling.'

Once he was sure Albus had his back to them and his attention on the food, Scorpius narrowed his eyes at her. She assumed an innocent expression. 'Where is everyone?' he asked Albus, and went to pour himself some tea.

'Dad's at work,' said Al as he rattled around the kitchen, more his mother's child when it came to cooking than any of his siblings. 'Mum's taken Lily to Saint Mungo's for one of the recovery checkups, but it's just a formality by now.'

'Hugo had his last week, they discharged him fully,' said Rose. 'All but the really unlucky are recovered from Phlegethon now.'

_And the _really _unlucky are dead,_ Scorpius thought, but the moment he'd remembered Tim, Rose was reaching to brush the back of his knuckles with her fingertips. The touch was gentle, not pressuring him, but it dispelled some of the grief, and so he gave her a small, grateful smile. He hadn't realised she'd even notice to comfort.

'Did you hear about Brazil?' he said instead.

Rose scowled. 'Yes. Which has brought up a bit of a spanner in the works on our trip.'

'I don't see why,' said Albus. 'Portkeys are paid for, we've packed everything, and we're not going near Brazil, or to South America at all -'

'Hestia's dropped out. I had a letter this morning.'

Albus scowled but didn't yell, because Albus almost never yelled. Scorpius, however, did. '_What_? She bloody - we're going in two days!'

'It's not her choice,' said Rose, drawing her hand back. 'Her parents read about Brazil and got cold feet about her leaving the country, leaving them. They were always a bit unsure about it all but this was the final straw.'

Albus grimaced but started dishing up breakfast anyway. It would take worse news than the possible cancellation of their trip weeks in the making to ruin his appetite. Perhaps nothing short of another outbreak of Phlegethon could do so. 'Has _she_ paid her share of the Portkey Pass?'

Rose winced. 'No. And her parents don't want to, now.'

Scorpius' eyes widened. 'You're kidding me. They cancel the trip on her and now they put all of _us_ going in jeopardy because they're too fussy -'

'It's not _fussy_, Scorpius, it's pretty normal for parents to be worried considering Phlegethon and everything -'

'But this means _we_ have to meet the costs!' snapped Scorpius.

Albus and Rose exchanged looks, and Albus exhaled slowly. 'I can't afford to up my share,' he said at length.

Scorpius sobered at this, then waved a dismissive hand. 'I'll cover it.'

'You will not!' said Rose indignantly. 'That's not fair.'

'She's right,' said Albus. 'We do this evenly, Scorp, you don't need to fork out more to cover us. We said we'd be doing this our way, with pocket money and birthday money.'

'To be specific,' said Scorpius, reaching for the teapot to top up his mug, '_you_ said you'd do it that way. _I _still have all of my money.' He'd been lucky with his timing in stepping out from his father's house and influence and wealth. Coming of age had brought with it money held in trust for him throughout his childhood, accounts in his name which his parents and grandparents had poured wealth into, and so now, without Draco giving him a knut, he was hardly in danger of poverty.

Albus stiffened, however. 'I'd rather not do it that way.'

'Then we lose the entire group Portkey Pass and can go absolutely nowhere,' Scorpius pointed out.

'_Or_,' said Rose in that tone of voice which made it clear she wanted the bickering to stop, 'we find a new fourth person to jump in and pay Hestia's share.'

Scorpius' brow furrowed. 'Who?'

Albus winced. 'Selena?'

'I doubt she'll want to,' said Rose. 'She's spending all her time with Travers and Abena these days, we've barely spoken in the last two months.'

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. 'I reckon she might,' he said. 'It'd do her some good to get away for a bit, and she'll have the cash, and it's not like her mother's overbearing or will stop her or anything. I'll stop by and talk to her today?'

The other two looked dubious, but Rose shrugged. 'You can try. It'd be nice if she did,' she said, then hesitated. 'There is one more person who springs to mind...'

He narrowed his eyes, not because he knew what she was thinking but because she was so obviously apprehensive. 'Who?'

Rose winced. 'Matt.'

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. 'Doyle?'

'Yes.' She coloured. 'He'll have the spare money, his parents are pretty laid-back, you two both get on with him!'

'I do,' said Albus, and sipped his tea diplomatically.

But Rose was looking more at Scorpius, gaze rather anxious, and seemed surprised when he smiled and shrugged. 'Sure, Doyle. That would be fine by me. But I really reckon I can get Selena on board.'

Silence met his words, silence broken only by Albus digging into the hearty breakfast he'd cooked, and Rose blinked as Scorpius just reached for more tea. 'Oh,' she said. 'Okay. Well, talk to Selena, and if that gets nowhere, then I'll talk to Matt?'

'Sure,' said Scorpius, and then promptly tuned out for most of the rest of their planning session. The meeting was more for Rose's benefit, so she could be sure she'd done every single task that had needed doing before they left, big and small, and for Albus to be better than him at pretending they cared.

It wasn't that it wasn't important. But the prospect of going to Venice, Egypt, India, and beyond, all made little things like camping supplies and guide books sound rather mundane. So he just ate his breakfast and sipped his tea and watched Rose go through officious points and tried to not be distracted by that stray lock of red hair that kept springing from behind his ear. He always wanted to reach for it, tuck it away or toy with it, and thinking of _that_ made him think of that morning...

So overall he looked very fixated on what Rose had to say after all and so when she left an hour later, telling him to let them both know the moment he'd spoken with Selena, he was feeling like he'd earned a serious number of good boyfriend points.

Albus, however, just rolled his eyes once they heard the front door close behind Rose. 'You didn't pay one jot of attention to that, did you.'

'Nope,' said Scorpius, mopping up baked bean sauce with the latest round of toast.

Albus snorted into his tea. 'Still, I'm impressed.'

'At what? I've been pretending to listen to women for _years_.'

'I mean at you being not bothered about Matthias. It's decent of you.'

'Oh, _that_.' Scorpius scowled, but he waved a hand dismissively. 'No, you're having a laugh if you think I want to go on a month-long trip across the world with Rose's ex-boyfriend. The only way it would be worse would be if it were Hector.'

Albus looked startled. 'If it's a problem, you should have said something.'

'What, and have her accuse me of getting jealous?' Scorpius munched on toast. 'It's fine. Selena's going to come with us, she'll be a piece of cake to lure along, she'd _love_ Venice. So Doyle won't be an issue and by playing along, I get to look all mature.'

'Certainly the key word is, "look,"' Albus agreed, brow furrowing. 'You shouldn't worry about Doyle, you know.'

'I don't. Because he and Rose broke up a year ago, and because I have _far_ better hair than him, and because he's not coming with us so it's not even an issue.' Scorpius topped up his mug of tea again. 'We're going to go on holiday, we're going to see awesome things in awesome places, we're going to get _far_ away from this Council of Thorns bollocks, and absolutely no crises are going to reach us at all.'

Upon reflection, Scorpius should have realised that this was a deeply, deeply stupid prediction to make.


	3. Many Moons

**Many Moons**

Scorpius felt like a stalker. This was probably because he was, in many ways, _being_ one - he had paid attention over the last three months to where Selena Rourke went, who she spent time with, how she was doing. And now that he'd located her at her usual luncheon spot, a quiet little café on Diagon Alley with her two best friends, he didn't go in for a moment but lurked near the window and watched.

It was fine, he told himself. He wasn't pressed up against the glass and panting heavily. This was both altruistic and discreet.

There was a reason he'd watched from afar, and that was because the moment Phlegethon had ended, Selena Rourke had wanted nothing to do with him - or Albus, or Rose. It wasn't that she was rude or cold. But social arrangements were shrugged off, or brief and perfunctory, and her attitude was disinterested and haughty, and within a matter of weeks they'd got the memo.

Their time together with Phlegethon had been only fleeting. Now it was back to the status quo.

This was why his observations had been from afar. The reason his observations were kept up at all was because the status quo had been bought with the life of her boyfriend.

He was _almost_ certain she was retreating, tortoise-like, into a protective shell of her old self where nothing mattered but gossip and hair and makeup, and where boys were fleeting toys to be disposed of, and where Methuselah Jones did not feature one jot in her life. As it had been before.

Though as he watched her sit in that café with Abena and Miranda, he was reminded that he was only _almost_ certain this was a mask. Because she was laughing, she was smiling, she was flipping her hair and fluttering her eyelashes at the waiter, and he could look at her and believe her last year had been nothing at all.

It was only the memory of her collapsed over the corpse of Methuselah Jones, screaming his name in utter desolation, that made him doubt.

The café had a little bell on the door that tinkled when he walked in, which meant his arrival didn't go unnoticed. The reaction from the table the three girls were sat at was interesting. Or, strictly speaking, the table didn't react, because it was a table.

Miranda's reaction was the most honest, because they hadn't really talked since Phlegethon and the entire issue of her lying to the whole school about him cheating on her had clearly become something of an embarrassment after she'd almost died. But it didn't mean she was welcoming. Her smile was hesitant, awkward. Selena, meanwhile, just continued laughing at what Abena had said, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and gave him a dismissive glance like she didn't expect him to approach.

It was Abena, often the most sensible of the trio, who gave him a pitch-perfect smile and waved him over. 'Scorpius!'

He put on his swagger, because everyone would be happier if they played their little games, and headed over. He'd hoped to catch Selena early, on her own, but they were wily, these women. 'Ladies, always a pleasure. Mind if I join you for a spot of tea?'

'You're always welcome.' Abena pushed the remaining chair out with her toe and he sat down. 'How've you _been_?'

There was sympathy in her voice, he thought, and Scorpius remembered that he'd always quite liked Abena. She put on airs but they were mostly for the sake of keeping social conventions calm rather than to manipulate. A dishonest smile in the right place would be used to soothe nerves or pride rather than deceive maliciously. It had been Miranda he'd resented for lying, and Selena he'd thought stupid and mean until he knew better, but he'd never had a personal problem with Abena.

'I'm fine, don't you worry about me. The Potters are great, and I'll bounce back. I always do.' He gave her his charming smile and nodded to the waiter for some tea, before he turned to Selena and tried to sound casual when he said, 'I didn't see you there the other week.'

Selena arched an eyebrow at him. 'Where?'

_Tell Selena I'll be thinking of her... _A familiar cold knot tied in his gut, and he tried to remember to be sympathetic. 'You know where,' he said softly.

She reached to butter a scone. 'I can't visit his grave _every_ week, Scorpius; life has to go on -'

'What about a three month anniversary, can you make it there for that?' His shoulders tense. This wasn't what he'd come to talk about, but he'd begun his questioning wanting to make sure she was all right. That she was being dismissive didn't help.

Selena took a bite out of the scone, and didn't answer until she'd swallowed, meeting his angry gaze calmly. 'I'm sorry, Scorpius. He was a sweet boy, he was incredibly brave, and we all owe him a lot. We really do. But I'm not going to lurk around, wailing like a lost soul for the rest of my life.'

He watched her, stunned and horrified, and so there was a silence where Miranda could speak. Because she was almost always the one who knew exactly what to say, and even Abena followed her lead. 'How's Rose, Scorpius?'

He accepted the diversion. 'She's good,' he said, and made himself smile as his tea arrived. 'I don't see her as much as I'd like with being all busy and, well, parents.'

Miranda gave a smile he thought was honest. 'They can be awkward. Aren't you going on holiday, soon? How's that shaping up?'

'With trouble, actually. Bloody Kirke's dropped out.'

Selena snorted. 'You can't rely on Hestia Kirke? I'm astonished.'

'So we need a fourth person to come with so we can cover the portkey costs and Rose had hoped you'd like to come along,' said Scorpius. It wasn't strictly a lie, he told himself. Rose _would_ be pleased if Selena wanted to be more friendly again. But it was a cheap manipulation of Selena also, and it would save him face if the request backfired because, after all, he was only asking on behalf of his girlfriend.

'Oh, you'll be away a few weeks, won't you?' Selena wrinkled her perfect nose. 'I couldn't. I'll be far too busy.'

'We're starting in Venice,' he said, brow furrowing, because all of a sudden horrible prospects were looming in front of him and they were all called being stuck with his girlfriend's ex in a tent for a month. 'And going on from there.'

'That sounds lovely,' she said, and sounded like she meant it. 'But I really can't go away right now, Scorpius. You understand?'

He didn't, but he accepted she wasn't going to budge, and he peered into her bright blue eyes to see nothing but mild reluctance at letting him down - but other than that, utter indifference at all the world had to offer.

'All right.' On an impulse he looked at Miranda. 'Can I talk to you a moment? Outside?'

Miranda looked surprised, but then she was all perfect smiles. 'Of course.' But by the time they'd stepped into the street, discretion in a crowd granted by the fuss and bother of shoppers on Diagon Alley, she looked apprehensive. 'What is it, Scorpius?'

He hesitated, then turned to her and decided to be honest. 'Selena - she _is_ all right, isn't she?'

Miranda looked nonplussed. 'She seemed tired and a bit stressed after it was all over, but since then she's been fine, yes. She's getting past it. We all are, Scorpius.'

His brow furrowed. 'You _do_ know that she and Jones were a thing, right?'

'Selena.' Her eyebrow arched. 'And Methuselah Jones.'

'Yes.'

'A thing?'

'I mean what you think I mean, yes.' Scorpius ground his teeth together. 'She didn't say anything about it?'

'She mentioned a little fling, which was all a bit silly considering he was, you know...' Miranda hesitated. 'I mean, he was very brave, of course, but he was still _Jones_, after all. You know what he was like. She said it was sad but it hadn't really been a big deal.'

The icy coil of anger wound tighter in Scorpius' gut, and he gave a curt nod. 'Right. No big deal.' He looked away to glower down the street.

Miranda bit her lip, obviously aware this was a problem and not sure why. '...you and Rose are doing well?' It sounded more like an effort to fill the silence and change the subject than a genuine question.

'Hm? Oh, yeah. She's great.'

'Good.' Her gaze went more sincere. 'I'm glad. I mean. You should have someone great. I didn't think it would be _Weasley_, mind, but... I'm glad.' Miranda tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. 'I am sorry, you know that?'

Scorpius sighed. 'It doesn't matter. But, thank you.' He looked back to the café and realised he didn't want to sit around with Selena acting like nothing had happened, telling the world nothing had happened, and maybe even believing it. 'I'm going to go. Say bye to the others for me.'

He didn't wait for a reply before he turned and stalked off down the road.

The main heart of Diagon Alley heaved with people still, though he could feel the tension in the air. It had been there for weeks, all the time since Phlegethon had ended, and Scorpius suspected it had been worse during the crisis. For two and a half decades, wizarding Britain had thought itself safe from outside threats and now that shattered peace had ended. Even though life went on, everyday habits unchanged, it was with an uneasy air, as if everyone knew they might lose normalcy at any moment.

Today, with the news from Brazil, it was even worse. Now, nobody wanted to linger, and so with his bad mood Scorpius found himself keeping pace with the crowd, stomping down the street and, diverted by his temper, not looking where he was going as much as he might.

Until he ran smack into someone.

Scorpius scrabbled to stabilise himself and flailed to grab the other person to steady them, too. 'Oof, I'm terribly sorry - oh, Professor!'

Nat Lockett had almost dropped her bag at the impact and so gave a wan smile when Scorpius' hand settled around the strap - though she, too, looked pleased enough at the encounter, if not the impact. 'Scorpius, fancy running into you like this.'

He grinned, bad mood dissipating. 'I thought it had been a while since we bounced off one another, Professor - what it's been, weeks?'

'And months since I was your teacher, and I won't be again in September, so you don't have to call me "Professor", you know?' Lockett stepped nearer the window of Flourish & Blotts so they were out of the flow of pedestrian traffic that had thrown them together.

'I thought that was your first name. But, seriously, how've you been?'

'Busy,' she sighed. 'The task force is still struggling to find a way to form a cure from the Resurrection Stone which doesn't require carting the Stone itself to every outbreak of Phlegethon across the globe.'

He winced. 'The ritual?'

'Is _dangerous_, highly volatile even without the transformation you all did to the one at Hogwarts, and still requires energy of the Resurrection Stone. Those crystals wouldn't contain it for more than a few hours, no good for worldwide distribution.'

'It's that bad?' Scorpius' brow furrowed. 'It's happening that often?'

'Here and there, pockets across the world. We're answering as quickly as we can and it's remaining under control, and none have been as outright infectious as what happened at Hogwarts, but...' Lockett's voice trailed off. 'It's bad. Worse than the press says. Which is why it's super-sensible of me to talk to you about it in the middle of the road.'

His lips twisted wryly. 'Fair enough. Any news on Thane?'

'Nothing, though that's more the job of the people hunting the Council. The task force worries about Phlegethon.'

'And how're the joys of working alongside Hermione Granger?'

Amusement lit up Lockett's green eyes. 'And this from someone who _likes_ her. We're professional. How're the joys of going out with her daughter?'

'She thinks I'm _lovely_,' said Scorpius, sticking his nose in the air and hoping he was right.

'But you and the others are all right, yes?'

'Oh, yes. I just came from seeing Selena, as a matter of fact,' he said, deciding to not mention the part where Selena was proving herself a prize bitch. 'Albus, Rose and me are going away for a bit, trip abroad. But, you should get in touch.'

'Maybe,' said Lockett, in that friendly way which made it clear she probably wouldn't, and he could understand why. There wasn't much to say, after all, and he was the only one of them who'd had much of a personal relationship with Lockett during the Phlegethon crisis. He nodded and pretended to believe her, then she quickly said, 'What trip?'

'Getting the old-fashioned world-tour in early, considering we'll now be in Hogwarts for _another _two years. Venice first, then - the world.'

Lockett's eyes lit up. 'Make sure you stop by Morocco. It's a brilliant country, really beautiful.'

'I'll pester the others on that one. How's Brynmor?'

Something coy tugged at her expression, and he did a bad job of hiding a smirk. 'You were at the back of the queue the day they handed out discretion, weren't you, Scorpius?'

'I thought we were catching up?' he said innocently.

She shrugged. 'All right, then. We're getting married.'

He blinked. 'Oh, wow. Congratulations!'

'It's not really that fast,' she said, anticipating his thoughts, 'when you take into account we've known each other for over twenty-five years.' Lockett sighed. 'I'm travelling a lot for the task force. But he's retired from professional Quidditch now, and we let work get in the way before, so he's bullying his way into coming with me and, well... we decided to not wait any more.'

'I'm not judging,' said Scorpius sincerely. 'I think it's great, really -'

And that was when his father appeared behind Nat Lockett as if from nowhere. One moment the crowd had been heaving down the road; the next it was much, much smaller, and a pale shadow slid from the ranks to intercept their conversation.

'Scorpius.'

Lockett only needed one look at his face before she seemed to have figured out what was going on, and her expression was a rictus of forced cordiality which nobody was supposed to think was sincere as she turned to face Draco Malfoy. 'Mister Malfoy, a _pleasure_ to see you again,' she said too-politely, sticking her hand out so he couldn't ignore her.

Draco looked between them, but at Scorpius' silence he had no choice but to shake Lockett's hand dourly. 'Again?' he repeated with disinterest.

Something flashed in her eyes. 'Yes. We met at Hogwarts three months ago. Quite aside from being at school at the same time and playing on opposing Quidditch teams. I can imagine why you might forget, though - I'm Nathalie Lockett, formerly a Hogwarts Professor, Order of Merlin First Class.'

The bragging, so unlike her, could only be antagonistic, and Scorpius' jaw tightened as Draco arched an eyebrow. 'Oh, for pity's sake, Father, you know _exactly_ who she is, so have some courtesy for the woman who cured Phlegethon, would you?'

'I know who she is,' said Draco as he let go of Lockett's hand and didn't look at her. 'I wasn't aware we knew one another _socially_, however.'

'He's trying to tell you to go away,' said Scorpius to Lockett, expressionless.

'Ah, I couldn't have seen through the cunning ruse without your translation.'

'I thought he was being subtle,' he agreed, 'so I figured I'd help.'

Draco looked half an inch from rolling his eyes and his gaze finally turned on Lockett. 'I would like a conversation with my son, if you'll excuse us.'

'I think that rather depends on if your son would like a conversation with _you_,' said Lockett, then she gave Scorpius a questioning look. He sighed and nodded, and so she gave him a small, genuine smile. 'You should come to the wedding, hopefully it'll be after your trip. I don't think there's a place in the wedding party for Official Meddler, but we could make one.'

Scorpius smiled as sincerely as he could smile in his father's company. 'You have a good day, Professor.' She didn't correct him this time, merely gave him a warmer smile, blanked his father, and headed down the road.

Leaving the two of them together, alone in a crowd. Scorpius frowned and looked at the window of the bookshop as Draco finally said, 'You didn't read my letters.'

'I didn't _reply_ to your letters. I read them. Well. Some of them. Some, they just skipped _right_ onto the bonfire, it was like they had a life of their own,' said Scorpius, and found he'd gone from deathly calm to ragingly furious in the blink of an eye. He clenched his fists. 'Get the message. I don't want to talk to you. Not by letter, not my Floo, not in person.'

He turned to go, but then Draco had moved, reaching out to grab his sleeve. 'No, you will _listen_ -'

Scorpius' blood went cold. 'Let me go or I _swear_ this is going to be a scene so public it'll make the _Prophet_'s evening edition,' he hissed.

Startled, Draco did let go. 'We cannot continue like -'

'Actually,' said Scorpius, 'I think we can continue _almost exactly_ like this, just further away from each other. So I'm going to see about making that happen. _Goodbye_, Father.'

And, shaking with anger that pounded in his chest and nerves that rattled his knees, Scorpius tore away from Draco and stormed down the road, into the crowd, ostensibly aiming for the Leaky Cauldron but in truth just looking to get far, far away.

* * *

Rose had been to the Doyle home before. It was a handsome Georgian terraced house in a wizarding district of London, three stories tall and painted a white which was all the brighter against its dark roof tiles. The front yard was lined by a black metal railing that matched the fences around the trees which spotted the pavement and wept the last of their pink spring blossoms.

Despite having grown up in the countryside, she had always thought it a beautiful house, and so this eased her anxiety as she trotted up the steps to the wide front door, pressed the bell, and waited.

It was Matthias' father who answered, a man as tall as his son and with the same dark hair but going grey at the temples. He was also wearing an expression of recognition tinged with the apprehension of a parent who _thought_ they'd got their child's social life figured out and was now questioning everything they'd taken as a certainty.

'Hi, Mister Doyle,' she said, smiling as brightly as she thought reasonable. 'Is Matt in?'

He relaxed a shade, returning the smile, and stepped back from the door. 'Rose, always a pleasure. Do come in, Matt's around. How've you been?'

'Thank you - and I've been fine, thanks. I hope you're well, and how's Sophie?' She smiled as he let her into the hallway. Matthias had two sisters and whilst the elder, Annie, had left Hogwarts the year before and thus escaped Phlegethon, the Doyle family had seen their younger two children both infected.

His smile softened. 'Doing better - fine, actually, really. They both are, Saint Mungo's has given them a clean bill of health. Sophie took a little longer, but that's just because Matt took the physical recovery training more to heart…' He shut the door and turned to her, gaze intently locking on. 'I should thank you for all you did - thank you properly, that is, not just join the choruses. For what all of you've done this year, but also for writing those letters you did to us. So, thank you, for myself and my wife. Sincerely.'

'We did what we had to. But I'm ever so glad both Sophie and Matty are all right.'

He smiled again, nodded, then gestured up the stairs to release her. 'Go right on up, he's in his room. He won't have heard the door from up there.'

'Thank you.' She did as bidden, going down the hallway, up to the first floor with Matt's parents' offices and bedroom, past the second floor with his sisters' bedrooms, and then to the narrower stairway that led to the converted attic that was his room and, for the middle of three children and the only boy, his sanctuary.

She let her feet creak on the bare wooden stairs to announce her arrival into the long room with its tapered ceiling. Late spring sunlight was falling through the high skylight she knew for a fact gave a grand view of the stars on a clear night, casting everything with a golden glow. The slanted ceiling was covered with old maps right next to the band posters; the straight wall below lined with bookshelves that featured everything from ancient histories and magical theorems to Muggle literature and wizarding thrillers. Though large, the room was filled with the eternal mix-and-match of its inhabitant's interests.

Who, himself, was looking right at her with an expression of undisguised surprise, pleasure, and apprehension at her arrival, risen from his desk and the large, open hardback book that lay upon it. 'Rose!'

She returned the smile shyly. 'Hey, Matty.'

He coloured a little as she remembered he'd been less fond of the affectionate nickname since they'd broken up - probably hadn't been too fond of it when they'd been a couple but then had motivation to put up with it - and she found herself turning pink as she realised several things. The first was that they'd spent no time together outside of school after breaking up, and this was certainly the first occasion she'd sought him outside of Hogwarts in the last year.

The second was that they hadn't been together in his bedroom since the Christmas before last, and they'd been a couple back then. A very new couple, still entangled in the rush of discovery of one another which had come when they'd been made the prefects of their year and realised they had more in common than they'd known, and a more fierce connection and rapport than they'd anticipated.

'What, er. What're you doing here?' said Matt. 'Not that it's not good to see you, I mean, it's been ages, or feels like it. Or, a little, _doesn_'t feel like it...'

Hugo had mentioned something similar - that, for him, Phlegethon had felt like it had only taken place over a week, if that, instead of months, so Rose found herself nodding despite Matt's ramble. 'Your dad let me in,' she said. 'I wanted to see you.' It was, she thought, a useful thing to say. Because otherwise he might not have figured it out.

'Oh,' he said with deep understanding, and gestured to the chair he'd vacated before going to perch judiciously on the edge of his bed. 'That'll have confused him.'

'He did seem a bit confused. Sorry. Ex-girlfriends should disappear after the relationship, parents don't seem to know what to do about them.'

'I wouldn't want you to disappear.' He smiled, then his brow furrowed a hint. 'How's Malfoy?'

She was actually relieved he'd brought up Scorpius, though his frown confused her. He'd never cared one way or another about Scorpius before, but at least the elephant in the corner had been addressed. 'He's fine. Still staying with Albus.'

'It's good between you two? I mean - things are okay?' His gaze stayed firm even though his voice faltered, cool grey eyes unwavering.

She brushed an errant lock of hair behind an ear. 'Yeah, Matt. Things are good. I like him.'

To her relief, his smile won out over his frown. 'Good,' Matt declared. 'I'm glad. I was a bit worried - I mean, Scorpius Malfoy? Thought you two _hated_ one another.'

'We didn't know each other properly.' But, emboldened by his apparent softening on the topic of her boyfriend - he'd never liked Hector and had made little secret of it and on reflection she had to acknowledge this was probably not _only_ born of jealousy - she decided it was time to be upfront. 'I did come to ask you something, though. It's a bit... weird and sudden...'

He brushed dark hair out of his eyes, his fringe always refusing to cooperate with his too-long hair. 'Go for it.'

'We're going on holiday. Me, Scorpius, Albus and, until today, Hestia. But Hestia dropped out at the last minute, and it's a package deal for four on the portkey pass, and either the three of us have to make up the fourth person's difference or we have to find someone else. And a fourth person _would_ make it better. So we wondered...'

Matt raised an eyebrow. 'Me? You didn't want to ask Rourke?'

'We did,' Rose sighed. She'd got Scorpius' Floo at lunchtime on his failure to coerce Selena. 'She can't make it.'

'And so I'm _third_ choice. I'm touched,' Matt drawled in the wry tone she knew meant he wasn't serious. 'For how long?'

'A month, globe-trotting.'

'To where?'

'We've got a few places lined up - Venice, Morocco, Cairo, Greece. Maybe then across to India. But the pass is open, we can go pretty much anywhere as we fancy, and we want to keep flexible in case trouble pops up somewhere.' She saw his eyes light up as she talked, and couldn't help but smile as she knew she had him.

He looked across to one of the maps on the slanted ceiling. 'Throw in a trip to Jerusalem,' he said slowly, 'and you've got a deal.'

She beamed. 'Really?'

'Sure! I'll have to talk to Mum and Dad so don't have me make an Unbreakable Vow over it, but it sounds great, I've got some savings, I'm getting _bored_ with nothing to do but wait until school's back in, and if yours and Albus' parents are okay with you two going away, Mum and Dad won't have an easy time of complaining.'

Her smile widened. 'I'll send you all the information so you can sort out the portkey - but also win them over.'

'Better to come at it with a full list of what's planned, what's known, what's decided on, so they don't hit me with questions I can't answer,' Matt agreed, grinning. Then he paused. 'Malfoy's all right with this?'

'Of course, why wouldn't he be?'

'Well. Going away with his girlfriend and his girlfriend's ex. It's not going to be weird?'

'It's not going to be weird for me. Is it going to be weird for you?'

He smiled at her. 'No,' he said. 'Not at all. We're friends, right?'

'Of course. Then it's not going to be a problem.'

She left shortly after, let out by Matt's gently bewildered father, and headed for the nearby alleyway she knew was good to apparate from. It was only when she was there, lurking in the gloom and making sure the coast was clear, that she remembered something else.

She and Matt Doyle had _never_ been friends. They had been house mates for the first four years of Hogwarts, chatty in class and at the dinner table and in the common room, but they'd not really hung out. There had been an acknowledgement that they were the two bright sparks of their social group and their year in the house - across all houses, to a degree, because of the other boys, Methuselah Jones was an utter social isolationist and Garrett Saxby a less well-rounded scholar. And they'd bounced well off one another if working together for class, but they hadn't, really, had much of a personal relationship.

Until they'd become prefects, and patrolling together had led to long walks together, late at night, down the corridors and on the grounds. One patrol in particular, early in November when the night air had been crisp and cool and he'd put his arm around her when it had been colder than anticipated out near the Herbology greenhouses, had ended up less about making sure nobody was up to no good, and more about getting up to no good themselves with a first, furtive, sweet kiss.

Her first kiss ever, to be precise, and she suspected his, too, though he'd never admitted it.

When they'd broken up, prefect duties had been _awkward_. And they'd retreated to their friendship groups, her with Hestia and sometimes Cheryl, him to John Colton and Randolf Willoughby and the others, and though they'd been civil and even chatty if the topic engaged them, they'd not been close again.

They'd not been _friends_.

Before she disapparated Rose wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake, then reasoned they had few options and it was a bit late to consider this. It was time to press on.

Concern _completely_ disappeared when she made it home, stepped in through the back door, and found not only both her parents waiting for her in the sitting room, but Uncle Harry and Albus, too. Albus looked furtive and trapped, but not guilty, so she knew whatever was going on had him in the same boat as her. He still smiled when he saw her, awkward and strained. 'How'd it go with Matthias?'

'Er,' said Rose eloquently, and looked across at them all. 'He's good to come along. He needs to confirm it with his parents, but he reckons they'll be okay.'

'Good,' said her mother decisively and to her relief. 'I'll stop by Legal Affairs tomorrow and talk to Jen Doyle anyway, it'll probably make this all go better if the parents are staying in touch. But the Doyles are sensible.'

Rose knew what the subtext of this was - that the Kirkes were _not_ sensible people. This judgement was not based off their refusal to let their daughter travel, but Hestia's flightiness seemed genetic, and her mother had never seemed to know what to make of her daughter's best friend. In truth, there was a reason Hestia and Rose weren't as close as they'd once been, but Hestia had still seemed like a good bet for company and to make up numbers and as someone who brought with her absolutely no emotional baggage. Except, sometimes, screeching dislike of Scorpius. Overall, an ex-boyfriend was perhaps a better option.

But, for now, she was being cornered by her parents and uncle, and her eyes narrowed. 'What's going on?'

Her father gestured to the sofa where Albus was sat. 'Have a seat, Rosie. We want to talk to you about this holiday.'

'We're _going_,' said Rose as she went to sit down. 'You can't pull the plug on this with only days to go, I don't _care_ about Brazil, we're not going anywhere _near_ Brazil -'

'We're not here to stop you,' said Hermione soothingly. 'We just want to talk.'

Albus looked between them. 'Is there a reason,' he said, 'why you three are here and Mum isn't?'

Rose's lips thinned. 'We're not just talking with our parents, are we, we're talking with the team who killed Voldemort.'

Harry, sat on the armchair nearest the window, sighed and nudged his glasses up his nose. 'Yes,' he said. 'That is, sort of, why it's us. Because your mother, Albus, is dear to us all, but there are some things you only understand by living through them, and I think you both understand that now.'

Rose and Albus exchanged glances. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I think I do. Though I don't understand _this_. What's this about?'

Ron leaned forwards, clasping his hands together. 'Prometheus Thane.'

Rose wrinkled her nose. 'What about him? We don't even know where he _is_.'

'Precisely,' said Hermione. 'He's dropped off the radar, the International Convocation isn't prioritising hunting for him, he's got nothing to do with Brazil or the Phlegethon outbreaks but he _is_ out there, and he's the one responsible for what happened at Hogwarts.'

Albus tilted his chin up. 'You think we're going to go after him.'

The three adults exchanged looks which told Rose that Al was right on the money. Eventually Ron sighed and opened his hands, looking at them both. 'Well,' he said. 'Are you?'

'No!' exclaimed Rose. 'He's _dangerous_, and he's only a part of what happened. The whole of the Council of Thorns were behind Hogwarts. And we're not going to go chasing _them_.'

'I know it can be difficult,' said Harry, 'being up to your neck in things and then having to let them go. You were at the front line at Hogwarts. Now you sit back and you let the government, the grown-ups do their work. The professionals. You've given up your control.'

'I for one _welcome_ this,' said Rose. 'Tangling with Thane's people almost got me _killed_.'

'It's hard to sit around doing nothing,' Albus agreed, 'just listening to reports and the news when we used to be a _part_ of it. And it's why we're going away: to be busy. To do something. To use this time well, instead of idly.'

Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron, then to her daughter and nephew. 'One thing the three of us have discussed,' she said slowly, 'is that we don't want you to think you can't talk to us about this. I don't mean just how you feel. I mean what you're doing. I know that you hid things from me during Phlegethon. Like the final ritual, and - what I'm saying is that I understand that.' Her lips thinned. 'I _did_ that sort of thing - _we_ did that sort of thing - in the war. Because we felt we had to.'

'We won't be angry, is what she's saying,' said Harry. 'Or try to stop you, or tell you it's not your place. We don't want you doing something foolish - that's not the same as saying we want you doing _nothing_.'

'Actually, we do want you doing nothing.' Ron's lips twisted. 'We'd rather you stayed at home, but then again, we'd rather wrap you in cotton wool and never be in danger. But that won't happen. And you're growing up, and you've got a right to deal with the problems in front of you, the people who hurt you. So what we mean is, we want to _help_.'

'We're not parents telling you off for doing something naughty,' said Hermione, and her voice dropped. 'We... we understand. Sometimes things need to be done. Sometimes it has to be you.'

'And sometimes you choose it being you and that's all right, too. Even if it's not what we'd wish for you,' Harry said. 'You don't need to hide things from us.'

Rose and Albus exchanged another look. 'Okay,' said Albus, then he turned to their parents and spoke with utter sincerity. 'This really is just a holiday.'

She was relieved when her father broke into laughter, flopping back on his armchair. He looked at his wife and best friend, corners of his blue eyes crinkling. 'Of course it bloody is,' he said. 'After all that fuss.'

Rose wrinkled her nose. 'You honestly thought this was our secret undertaking to go hunt a mercenary across the world? The three of us and _Hestia Kirke_?'

Hermione looked abashed. 'I thought Hestia was a ruse and was never going along at all, which is why she dropped out at the eleventh hour.'

'And Matthias Doyle?'

'Actually has a brain.' Hermione hesitated. 'Hestia doesn't need a brain to be a very good friend of yours.'

'Your affection for my friends, Mum, is touching.'

'The point,' said Harry, lifting his hands, 'does remain. We're here for you. As your parents, of course, but also as people who've been where you've been, at your age, and younger. We get it. You don't need to hide from us. We might not want trouble for you, but sometimes you don't get a choice - practically and, well, morally. Sometimes you have to face down evil.'

'If you run into trouble out there,' said Ron, 'for pity's sake, _tell_ us. We won't demand you come home at once. We might worry ourselves stupid, but you're adults now, and we'll respect that.'

Hermione nodded. 'We want you safe, and guidance is probably more practical than shielding you from everything the world does. The time for that has passed.'

'We understand,' said Rose. 'But we just want to get away. Have a holiday with the people we like in interesting places.'

Albus nodded, lifting his hands. 'And if we can go this entire trip without hearing the names Prometheus Thane or Council of Thorns, I, for one, will be _delighted_.'


	4. Hitch Your Wagon

**Hitch Your Wagon**

'News on Prometheus Thane has been thin on the ground,' said Lillian Rourke as her daughter trailed her through the offices of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Or, more specifically, the part of it where the British branch of the International Magical Convocation, the global council of increasing prestige and power formed to fight the Council of Thorns, resided, with Lillian Rourke herself at the head of it. 'He's simply not the priority.'

'The man was responsible for Hogwarts,' said Selena through gritted teeth as she followed her mother through the bullpen to Lillian's office. She could walk straight-backed, head held high, full of confidence and cool detachment, and almost, almost feel it. 'He should be a priority.'

'I know,' Lillian sighed. 'But getting the Convocation to agree on anything is difficult.'

'How are they reacting to Brazil?'

'With fuss and panic.' Her mother grimaced as she let them into her office, a big affair with large windows through which streamed the afternoon sun and a huge desk upon which every single memo in Britain seemed to sit. 'I'm pushing for trade sanctions against them for starters. France and Germany are backing me, Europe's making progress in leading the charge of getting things _done_.'

'_You_ should lead the charge in getting things done,' said Selena. 'You seem to be the only one who's getting results.'

'It's kind of you to say so, dear,' said Lillian with a thin smile, moving to sit herself down at her desk. 'But you do only hear my side of it. That said, we should have elections for the first official Chairman in two weeks, and I do anticipate carrying the vote. Then we can see about marshaling some real power in the Convocation to fight the Council of Thorns.' She rested her elbows on the desk and smiled more honestly at her daughter. 'But, not that it's not delightful to see you, my dear, was there something specific?'

'I'm not interrupting, am I?' said Selena.

'No, I was just wondering if I could help you.'

'I like to keep up to date on what's really going on. You always say how the press don't know half the truth and the other half are lies and manipulations anyway. And you work late. Not that I mind. You're busy.' She shrugged.

'But you asked about Thane.'

'He... matters. He did this to Hogwarts.'

'The Council as a whole brought Phlegethon to Hogwarts.' Lillian's expression creased. 'I know you're still terribly upset about your young man -'

Selena lifted a hand. 'I _was_ upset. I'm sorry about what happened to Methuselah, but it's not about him. I'm past him. He was sweet but we weren't all that close. I'm sad about Tim Warwick, too. But Phlegethon hurt my friends and Thane did that himself.'

Lillian watched her for a moment, then sank back on her chair and rifled through the papers before she pulled out a file, which she flipped open. 'Prometheus Thane was spotted last week in Copenhagen, along with several identified members of his team. His departure coincided with the disappearance of a Professor Dresdner, a world expert on magical archaeology, and his assistant, after they failed to show at a conference. Since then there have been a few rumoured sightings, but nothing concrete.' She tossed the folder back down on the desk, closer to Selena's side.

Selena frowned. 'And he's not being hunted?'

'He would be,' said Lillian, voice going tight, 'but he's travelling across borders and the Convocation is loath to cooperate in arranging an international task force to hunt him like they're hunting other known members of the Council. His prestige after the Hogwarts infection ended has reportedly dropped, and so he's considered a lower priority.'

Something pinched in Selena's throat. 'He _infected_ Hogwarts, he shouldn't be a lower -'

'I agree. I suspect foul play; Egypt are dragging their feet, as is Turkey, and I anticipate the hand of the Council themselves there. Thane might have less prestige but he's also dangerous and operates independently very efficiently. I think it's in the Council's best interests for him to move freely, and I think they want to do anything to stop the Convocation from interfering with him.'

'And this Professor?'

'I have no idea,' admitted Lillian. 'That could be simply coincidence. But so long as my hands are tied with him in the Convocation, I imagine we won't know. Perhaps if I make Chairman we can do something about this, but we shall see.'

'I don't -'

Selena was interrupted by the fireplace in the corner of her mother's office crackling to life with green flames, and Lillian gave her an apologetic look. 'I should take this,' she said. 'I'm sorry, my dear. Let yourself out, and I'll see you at dinner.' Lillian stood and headed for the fireplace, soon enough entrenched in a dry discourse with a flickering face Selena didn't recognise.

It was always like this. Conversations with a busy mother who did her utmost to make the time for them both, and she never resented her for it, but sometimes it was trying. All she could do now was get out of the way and wait until later, because there probably wasn't going to be more to learn here.

So Selena sighed, and got to her feet, and picked up her bag to slip it onto her shoulder, and when her hand brushed against the folder on the desk she didn't really think about it much.

Much.

* * *

'They actually asked that? Mental.' Scorpius shook his head as he flicked his wand lazily and, as anticipated, the burst of red lights that shot out the end was easily deflected by Albus.

'Oi,' Albus said. 'Concentrate. Or I'll smack you down until you do.' His retaliation was a more vicious Stun that forced Scorpius back a step so he'd have the room to bring up his Shield spell, and he almost didn't raise it in time.

They were down the bottom end of the garden at Rose's house, just before the rhododendron bush and in a wide, open space where he and Albus could fling spells at one another with abandon. There was more room for them to practice here than at Godric's Hollow, and with Rose flopped on the grass not far away with an array of maps strewn out before her as she idly took notes and watched them, all in all it seemed a good place to go to kill an afternoon.

'I'm just saying,' said Scorpius, and this time feinted high before he flung his Stun at Albus' ankles, making his friend dart to one side to avoid it. 'They think we'd hunt Thane?'

'Obviously they think we're as damaged as they are,' muttered Rose, sticking a pencil behind her ear as she rummaged through papers, brow furrowed.

He grinned at her, and grinned at the wrinkle in her nose at her consternation, and then Albus smacked him in the gut with a soft Stun and knocked him flat onto his back.

'Told you to concentrate,' said Albus, twirling his wand in his fingers and smirking.

Scorpius groaned, but saw Albus was going to let him get to his feet, and did so. Halfway there his wand shot out with sparks, and Albus raised his shield - then he did it again, and again, and Albus' brow furrowed as he easily deflected the onslaught, before the splash of one shield seemed much less bright than any other.

That was when Scorpius swapped from quick, easily-cast illusions to divert or confuse his opponent to one hard-hitting Stun. Albus, complacent and uncertain in the face of Scorpius' light-show, had let his Shield's power slip, and the Stun punched right through it, ending up this time with him on his back on the grass with a groan.

'Ha! How's that for concentration?'

Albus laughed and sat up. As ever, he was more pleased by his friend's success than any sense of rivalry piqued at having been bested. 'It's a good trick,' he agreed. 'And you're good on those illusions, you're getting them more sophisticated. But you can't use it too often.'

'I know, if they figure what's going on they'll just put up a Shield and hold firm, or smack me one. But so long as they don't, they're wasting more energy and concentration reacting to the light-show than I am putting it on,' said Scorpius, and headed over to extend a hand to help Albus up.

A tinkling came from the direction of the house, and Rose stood. 'That's the front door. I'll be right back,' she said with some aggravation, and trooped up through the garden, up the hill.

Albus accepted Scorpius' hand, got to his feet, dusted himself down, and waited until Rose was out of earshot before he spoke next. 'So, we're taking Matt with us after all.'

Scorpius' expression went flat. 'Looks it, seeing as Selena's being a Grade O Bitch.'

'You really don't think she's just trying to divert?'

'If so, she's doing a _stellar_ job of it. No, it makes me wonder how much were she and Jones something to keep her busy during the crisis.'

Albus' forehead creased. 'I don't know, mate. I mean, she was distraught when he died, absolutely broken. But - Matt.' Urgency entered his voice. They wouldn't have long to talk without Rose. 'Are you sure this is a good idea?'

'No,' Scorpius conceded. 'But I don't have much of a choice right now, do I? He's coming, he'll pay, and besides. You and Rose like him. It's not like I'll have to spend much time with him.'

'I just don't want this holiday to be awkward. I want it to be, you know. A _holiday_. Fun.'

'I won't make a fuss. I'll be good as gold. Promise.' And Scorpius gave a sunny smile of innocent promise a split second before he saw the figure in the back door of the house. And the smile promptly _died_.

It took Albus a moment to realise what was going on. One moment Scorpius was in front of him, grinning and joking - the next he was storming up to the house, fists clenched, shoulders iron-tense, and when Albus turned he saw exactly who had appeared to make him look like a bomb that was about to go off.

Draco Malfoy, standing in the back door of Rose's house.

'What the _hell_ are you doing here?' Scorpius thundered, by now a peculiar shade of pink.

'I came to see you,' said Draco with utter calm, stepping out onto the back patio. 'She let me in.'

Rose followed in his wake, twisting her hands together and looking pale. 'He just barged in past me,' she stammered, looking at Scorpius with absolute shame.

'Of course he did,' Scorpius sneered, not in disbelief at her efforts to keep him out but in vehement disapproval of his father. 'I refuse to talk to you in Diagon Alley so you _hunt_ me here?'

'You couldn't exactly storm off here,' pointed out Draco. 'Now, if you could send them away, we can talk.'

'If I am sending _anyone_ away in this conversation, it is _you_!' Scorpius bellowed.

Draco's nose wrinkled. 'Don't _shout_, boy -'

'I haven't been shouting at you _nearly_ enough, and now I've started I don't think I know how to stop! How _dare_ you come here, how _dare_ you try to -'

'How _dare_ I?' His father's voice took on an icy edge. 'You walk away from me, from the family, from your duty to our household, and yet you still take the _money_ -'

'That money is _mine_, left for me in trust and now I'm of age it's mine, I'm not taking a single _knut_ of yours -'

'Money of the _Malfoy family_, money intended to go to the _heir_, not some ungrateful child turning his back on his responsibilities -'

'Responsibility to do _what_, be an outrageous _arsehole_ and destroy the entire family?'

Draco looked aghast. 'You walk away and_ I'm_ the one who destroyed -'

'You drove away Mum, didn't you?' Scorpius barked, by now beyond caring that Albus and Rose were right there, both of them drawn back from the yelling match between father and son, his world narrowed to a tunnel of his father and his hatred. 'Made life so unbearable she couldn't possibly stay with you -'

'Or with _you_!' Draco pointed out. 'She left _you_, too, if she was so bloody _saintly_, why didn't she take you with her? Because she was a selfish, _selfish_ woman who just wanted to be far away with as much money as she could take me fore - why do you think she barely gets in touch, why do you think she's not even come _back_ since Phlegethon -'

Scorpius raised his hands. 'This isn't the point,' he said, though his father's words were hammering into his gut and threatening to fester there. 'This is about me, and you, and how I don't want _anything_ to do with you any more.'

'So you want me to disown you, is that it?' Draco sneered.

'You wouldn't _dare_,' Scorpius retorted in the same tone. 'You need a precious heir for your precious lineage -'

'Not if that heir is an irresponsible, ungrateful _brat_ who is abandoning _every_ principle this house has stood for!' Draco's voice went quieter, harsher, and that was like ice in Scorpius' gut, that was the tone he knew to resent and, ultimately, fear, above all the yelling in the world. 'Disregarding the traditions that made us and cavorting with blood traitors and rutting with a filthy half-blood -'

The ice shattered. This was not freedom, though, but more like splinters exploding through every inch of Scorpius, and without thinking he was taking long steps towards his father until they were almost nose to nose. 'Don't you - don't you _dare_ bring her into this, don't you -'

'_Enough_!'

Hermione Granger's shout was like a whip through the air already crackling with energy, and it was enough to make the four of them jump. For Scorpius, at least, it broke the spell of the moment's intensity, and he darted back from his father as if to be too close was to be stung. He realised, on some level, why Rose had been so slow to appear outside after Draco. Because she'd been sending word for reinforcements, and now they were here.

Hermione's lips were nothing more than a thin line as she stepped onto the back yard, chin tilted up defiantly, gaze locked on Draco. 'Malfoy, I don't remember _ever_ inviting you to my house,' she said, voice hard as granite.

Draco turned and his lip curled at the corner in a half-sneer. 'Weasley - or it's still _Granger_ as you insist on being, how very _modern_ of you. I am here to talk to my son. This is none of your affair.'

There had been a slight twitch in Hermione's expression when he called her by her last name, but that only went more tense in the end. 'You're on my property, that makes it my every affair. You're upsetting a guest who is actually _welcome_ here, and you're saying things about my daughter when, frankly, I'd be happy if you never said a single word to a single member of my family _ever_ again. I put up with enough of your hateful rhetoric for ten bloodlines.'

'Bloodlines, such as they are,' Draco muttered.

Scorpius went light-headed. 'Oh, you hateful _bastard_ -'

Hermione lifted a hand to cut him off, by now utterly implacable. 'You're not going to disown Scorpius, he's quite right. You have nothing to do here but blow hot air, and so even if I didn't despise you for yourself, that would make you unwelcome.' She drew a tense breath. 'And if you did disown him, I would consider him lucky to never have to visit Malfoy Manor again. I recall my last visit there. It left its _mark_.'

There was a peculiar emphasis on her words that Scorpius couldn't place, but it made his father's expression flicker. When he spoke, there was a rough edge to his voice. 'Potter has fo-'

'I'm. Not. Harry,' said Hermione in a flat voice. 'And I remember everything you did, everything you _didn't_ do, and I remember the war ending and you simply trying to toss around your backwards, hateful notions through more socially acceptable means. For our childhood alone, you are not welcome in my home. For your actions as an adult, I will not even be courteous about it. But for coming here to yell at this young man and insult my _daughter_, you now have ten seconds before I forcefully eject you and if you are _very_ lucky you will leave the premises whilst _not a ferret_.'

The pink in his father's cheeks only increased, before his expression pinched. He straightened, opened his mouth for a retort - seemed to think better of it, opened his mouth for some social nicety which might maintain some dignity - seemed to see the glint in Hermione's eye, and instead pulled out his wand and disapparated on the spot.

When Scorpius exhaled, the shake was audible, and he took a step back. 'I'm - sorry you all had to see that,' he said, his voice rough. 'I should - I need to - I better -' And then all possible coherence fled from his thoughts and lips, and without another word he turned on his heel and stormed back down the garden away from the three of them, away from their gazes of confusion, or worry, or _pity_. Down the gravel path, past Rose's abandoned pile of books and maps, and towards the orchard at the foot of the garden - out of sight.

He only stopped once he was sure they couldn't see him, the bushes and trees of the garden blocking him from sight. And even then he didn't stop moving, but pressed his knuckles to his temples and broke into a frantic pacing back and forth, as if he could march off the churning in his gut and the spinning in his head, as if he could screw out his father's words thumping through his mind.

_Getoutgetoutgetout -_

He didn't know how long he was there, but it was probably not more than a few minutes even if it felt like hours before there was a gentle hand at his elbow, a gentle voice saying his name.

'Scorpius?'

'No,' he found himself saying, pulling away from Rose. 'Don't -'

She looked startled when finally he opened his eyes to see her, pulling her hand back as if stung, worried and confused. 'I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you - I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone.'

Even though that was what he'd wanted, was why he'd rebuffed her, when she turned away that only made the churning in his gut worse, and he dropped his hands. 'I'm sorry,' he called out as she headed back up the garden. 'Stop. Please. I'm sorry.'

She did, and once she froze he could move, striding across the short distance, reaching out to grab her at the elbow, to turn her around - to pull her closer, one hand coming to cup her cheek, tilt her face up to his, and he kissed her.

Not a gentle kiss of seeking reassurance, not a determined kiss to reassure _her_, but a fervent, hungry embrace, his hold on her iron-tight, his breathing ragged and his lips greedy on hers. This was a kiss to try to melt the ice in him, a kiss to bring him back to the world of what was real and warm after he'd been set adrift in the cold. And when she made a small noise at the back of her throat, fingers clutching at his shirt and pulled herself closer, all but flowed into the kiss, into him, he could feel her dragging him back to the light from the dark.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, though not for some time, for he was beyond breath before he could speak, the words ragged against her lips. 'I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_...'

'Don't be.' Her hands ran across his shoulders, her fingers moving to entangle in the hair at his nape of his neck. 'That was him, _all_ him, and you're nothing like him and nothing like that hateful man _says_ you are...'

'I couldn't stand it,' Scorpius said, voice torn. 'Listening to him, all over again, again, and then starting on you, when - you make me better, you make me worth a damn -'

'I think if you weren't worth a damn before me, I sure as hell wouldn't have let you kiss me,' she said, hand pressing against his cheek to tilt his face down for their foreheads to rest together. 'Remember all you did, all you've done, your _heroics_ at Hogwarts, you got the Resurrection Stone...'

'I -' _Didn't. I didn't. I lied._

'...and you're a _good_ friend, a caring man, warm, funny, considerate, no _wonder_ he can't understand or value any of that when all he values is himself.'

He turned his face into her palm, grabbing her wrist to keep her close, eyes shutting. '...I should head back up there.'

'You don't have to,' Rose whispered. 'When you're ready. Take your time. Nobody's going to push you, you're safe here, you're with people who don't judge you, you're with people who love you...'

They were dangerous words, Scorpius knew on some level, though right then it seemed childish to fuss over semantics and forms of love even if the words thudded through his gut in a manner that was the innate opposite of how his father's had. He managed a wan, exhausted smile. 'No, I should... show my face, thank your mum.'

She nodded and gave him one last kiss before she pulled back, her hand sliding down to his and absolutely refusing to let him go as they wound their way back to the path leading to the rear of the house. Albus and Hermione were still stood on the patio, his concern rather more obvious than hers, though they both looked relieved to see them returning.

It was Scorpius' instinct to let Rose go in the presence of her parents - not that they had no idea what was going on, but he had a preference for not radiating, 'I'm here to despoil your daughter'. But she didn't let him and he was too numb to pull away, and so he had to twist his free arm awkwardly to give Albus a companionable thud on the shoulder. 'I'm all right,' he said, and his voice sounded halfway genuine, which was reasonable as he was only halfway all right. Albus looked reassured by the punch more than his words, and Scorpius looked to Hermione. 'Thank you,' he said. 'Very much, thanks for... getting rid of him.'

'It was my pleasure,' said Hermione in a level voice. 'For my own sake, I confess, as much as yours. I've never liked him. And I stand by what I said. _You_ are welcome here. He most certainly is _not_.'

Scorpius smiled, the icy tension abating, and softening even more as Rose squeezed his hand, but he couldn't keep the wry note from his voice. 'You're very kind,' he drawled, and glanced around the garden. 'But after that, I think getting away, _far_ away, if only for a little while, sounds like a _splendid_ idea.'

* * *

'Are you _sure_ you can fit everything in there?'

'For the tenth time, Al, Mum taught me this charm. We don't need to lug huge cases across Europe. Everything will fit in this.' Rose gave Albus a reassuring smile as the three of them hurried down the corridors of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, on the lower levels where the international portkeys were arranged and waiting.

The 'this' to which she referred was just a backpack, slung over her shoulder and into which had disappeared the travel bags of all three of them, a tent, and the assorted supplies for when they would need to camp out. Even though Scorpius had seen and helped pile everything into it before they'd left the Old Rectory, he shared Albus' dubiousness.

'Of course,' Scorpius said, shrugging past a group of Indian tourists heading out from one of the Portkey chambers, 'this does mean that if we lose the one bag we're _wholly_ buggered.'

Rose pursed her lips. 'Sweetie, you packed enough clothes to costume up a whole cast on the West End. Do you really want to carry those cases across Europe?'

'I was thinking of having my luggage shipped ahead of me,' he said with an imperious toss of the head. 'The bellboy at the Ritz will pick it up for me and have it in my room upon arrival.'

Albus snorted. 'We're camping and getting cheap rooms. Not languishing in the lap of luxury.'

'Despite my best efforts in the planning stage being thwarted.' But Scorpius stayed silent, not pressing this point. Money had never been a huge issue between him and his friends, because neither he nor Albus had particularly wanted for anything. But while Scorpius had seen his father carelessly throw money at him and now was enjoying the savings from Draco and everything in his trust funds, Albus' parents had tried to instill him with a sense of fiscal responsibility. Pocket money was generous enough to fund a self-sufficient holiday. It was also, by design, tight enough that planning and common sense would be needed, which meant rather fewer bookings at the Ritz and dusting off an old tent.

This, alone, would make it a novelty for Scorpius.

He glanced at the all-important rucksack. 'You know, we should probably be gentlemanly and carry it for you.'

'Albus can, if he wants,' said Rose.

Albus raised his eyebrows. 'I'm good.'

'Why just him?'

'Because I trust him to not lose it.'

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. 'Meaning, you'd expect me to lose it?'

'Oh, sweetie. I know you have many talents,' said Rose diplomatically, but before he could summon a retort she'd checked the paper in her hand and pointed to one of the doors down the long corridor of portkey chambers. '13A, that's us.'

International portkeys were different to the old boots and bits of tat that were unofficial portkeys, usually left in a discreet location to allow swift transport. Moving between countries took considerably more magical power and was also highly regulated by magical governments. To make use of one cost money, required a booking with the Ministry, and arriving at the appointed time when a specific permanent portkey would be ready for transit to the desired destination. The chambers were specially magically warded and shielded to make the connection across the long distance strong, and the portkeys themselves rested upon pillars charged with energy to rejuvenate them. Instead of a bit of rubbish waiting for them on the other side, they were greeted by a solid silver ring, every inch of it constructed for this specific purpose.

They were also greeted by Matthias Doyle, who had been lounging against the wall with a book that he was now sliding into the hefty rucksack resting at his feet. 'I'm in the right place, good.'

'You are, sorry we're a bit - is that what I think it is?' Rose's eyes landed on the book he was putting away and promptly lit up.

Scorpius chewed the inside of his lip as Matt gave a small smile and pulled it back out. 'Yup. A Book of Many Books. It's only tied to my shelves so it's not amazing, but -'

'I've had to pack about _twelve_ books and I still had to cut some,' Rose gushed, hurrying over with hands outstretched as he offered it over.

'It's true, she tried putting a shelf in there,' said Scorpius, nodding to Rose's bag. But for some reason the words came out a lot more harshly than he intended, and he got a warning glance off Albus for his troubles.

It was a mixed blessing, then, that Rose was so entranced by the Book of Many Books. 'I keep meaning to save up for one of these, but you know how it is.'

'I know.' Matt grinned. 'Why get a book to let you read other books when you could just get _more_ books? It was a birthday present.'

Scorpius blew out his cheeks and checked his pocket-watch. 'So, Venice in five minutes,' he said pointedly.

'What _is_ it?' said Albus, looking at the book and obviously deciding that bridging this gap would be wiser than letting it fester.

'A Book of Many Books,' Rose repeated, leafing through the pages. 'You need to bind it to a specific library, one you own, but it means you can access any text on those shelves. So, in this case, Matty can read _anything_ he's left at home and only has to pack one book.'

Scorpius looked at Matt, who stood straight, eyebrows raised, gaze flat and determined. 'That's great,' said Scorpius. '_Matty_. Really cool.'

Matt Doyle gave a thin smile. 'I'd let you borrow it, Malfoy,' he drawled. 'But I don't have any Quidditch magazines in there.'

Again, Scorpius narrowed his eyes. _Doyle 10, Malfoy 0_. But to respond would be to escalate, and Rose was just emerging from her book-fuelled haze and looking at her watch. 'We _should_ make sure we're ready to... wait a moment.' She peered at the pillar in the middle, then moved closer, checking the papers next to the Portkey. 'This one's to Berlin.'

'Shit,' Scorpius breathed. 'We're in the wrong chamber?'

Rose gave a small squeak of fuss and pulled her roll of parchment with their booking details out again. 'No, no, 13A, we're in the right place, but the Portkey's not enchanted for the right destination -'

'Oh, but it is!'

Scorpius turned to the new voice at the door and _stared_ at Selena Rourke, stood there in good boots, an expensive jacket, and a perfectly adorable suitcase levitating gently in her wake. 'We're going to the Black Forest!' she declared.

Stunned silence met her arrival as Scorpius failed to summon a response to her presence, to her change of heart, and to this apparent change to their itinerary. In the end it was Matt who spoke first, the one of them with the least reason to be surprised. 'Cool,' he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'There's some awesome hiking out there, and some _great_ old castles...'

'We're going to Badenheim, in Germany,' gushed Selena, trotting into the middle of the chamber. 'They have this little end-of-spring festival, it's only once a year and it starts _tomorrow_; I know we said we'd be going to Venice, but we can go _on_ to Venice, and we really won't get another chance for something like this.'

Rose was still staring at Selena, Albus had his head cocked to one side like he'd been punched and hadn't yet responded, and Scorpius again went fishing for words. 'Wait a minute. You want us to delay going to _Venice_ so you can absorb some rural German magical _culture_?'

Selena hesitated. 'And shopping?'

Scorpius closed his eyes. 'There it is.'

'Um,' said Rose, her first noise in about two minutes. 'Not that it's not _lovely_ to see you, Selena, but... but...' She flapped her hands. 'Our Portkey Pass is for four, and it was _Matt_ who bought onto it -'

'I bought another!' Selena beamed. 'Just a solo one, you four have yours and I have mine, but it's the same free-roaming arrangement, we can all jump on the exact same portkeys!'

Scorpius again flailed for words. 'But didn't you - I mean you said - you weren't going to -'

Then Albus had nudged him significantly in the ribs - which, from a man of Albus' size, was rather like getting headbutted by an ox - before he moved forward to wrap Selena in a warm hug. 'I'm so glad you're coming with us,' he said, and being Albus, he had to mean it. 'Of course we can go to Badenheim first. It sounds great.'

Scorpius knew his best friend. Albus would be giving Selena the benefit of the doubt, believing she'd decided that she didn't want to be alone or away from the people who understood what she'd gone through, but had too much pride to _ask_. He would be welcoming her with open arms to make it clear she could tag along with them if that was what she wanted, and if he was right, if Selena really was just lonely and hurt, it was the right thing to do.

But for Scorpius' part, he wasn't entirely convinced they hadn't been press-ganged into Selena Rourke's pan-European quest for a new wardrobe.

'Badenheim,' mused Matt, scratching his nose. 'There's something about Badenheim...'

'It's old!' said Selena happily. 'Lots of things there. You can bookworm at them with Weasley and then we can pretend to be interested but instead fall asleep. But, no time, no time! It's going to power up any moment, so grab on, and we have a follow-up waiting for us in Berlin to take us to the Black Forest!'

Scorpius met Rose's eye as they tromped obligingly to the silver ring in the centre. She shrugged, but gave him a reassuring smile also, and he relaxed. After all, even if Selena's timing was awful enough that she'd dumped them for the trip with Matthias Doyle, she was another warm body, another person who wouldn't like Doyle, and another person to keep Rose engaged, to keep Rose amused, and above all, to keep Rose from nerding out with her ex-boyfriend.

Which was rapidly storming, as a principle, to the top of his priority list for the whole trip.


	5. Fly-by-Night

**Fly-by-Night**

'It's a pretty town,' said Albus, his gaze sweeping up and down the wide, cobbled streets of Badenheim, across the white painted timber houses with their black wooden beams, at coloured shutters and the window-baskets resplendent with bright flowers.

'It is,' said Scorpius, ambling beside him as they crossed a low stone bridge across a narrow but fast-running river which had come tumbling down from the wooded slope that stretched up to the northern horizon, filling the sky with the towering trees of the Black Forest. 'The view's pretty good.'

'And the weather.'

'All in all, it's a nice place.'

'It is.'

Scorpius stopped as they reached Badenheim's empty main square, nothing gazing down on them but the tall houses he would call 'quaint' if he wanted to be a snob, no company near by the birds that fluttered to the benches, the village quiet at this time of day. He sighed. 'Pity it's completely bloody empty.'

Albus' brow furrowed. 'It's not a very good festival, no.'

'It's not a festival _at all_,' Scorpius pointed out. 'This isn't some sort of late spring market, this isn't some sort of late spring _anything_. Selena was having us on.'

The frown deepened. 'She might have been mistaken.'

'Selena? Mistaken? About shopping? Doubt a compass points north, first.'

Albus shrugged and opened his hands. 'Why would Selena trick us into coming to the middle of nowhere? What possible reason would she have? It's not even a joke, it's just...'

'A waste of time,' grumbled Scorpius.

'It's not. This place is _nice_, Scorp. The campsite is nice -'

'Except this town is completely Muggle, so we're having to hide.'

'- the town is nice, the people are nice -'

'We don't speak German! They might not be greeting us. They might be promising to murder us in our sleep, and we would _never know_.'

'I'm just saying it's a _harmless_ diversion,' Albus pressed. 'There's a portkey from Berlin to Venice tomorrow evening. We spend a night here. We enjoy the area. And then we apparate back to the capital and we'll be on a gondola before you know it.'

Scorpius kicked at the cobbles. '...why do you always have to look on the bright side?'

'I'm monstrous like that,' said Albus, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Come on, let's pick up some local grub, because there's no point coming out here if we're not going to at least try the food, get back to the tent, and we can enjoy the evening. Maybe take a hike in the woods tomorrow morning.'

'The woods _are_ pretty astonishing,' Scorpius conceded, and followed in his best friend's wake as they wound their way back the road they'd come, towards the northern exit from the town.

Despite Badenheim being positively sleepy, it was also, as Albus had assured him, welcoming. They found a small butcher's and between the two of them managed to wrangle their way through foreign languages and foreign, Muggle currency, though the latter took a lot of arguing about cents and knuts and lots of fingers being held up, and the former took a lot of Scorpius babbling on and pointing. He reckoned people barely understood him when he did that in English and he got by just fine, so it was a more universal way to communicate. And, for their efforts, they were rewarded with what Scorpius was almost certain were sausages.

A ten minute walk around Badenheim had granted them much of what the village had to show for itself, so they took the road out of town and broke off onto the small footpath into the woodland. The sun was bright and warm and enough to pierce the verdant leaves of the tall, bowing trees, casting the path in speckled gold as they picked their way back to the campsite, and the breeze wafted the flowers on the verge, tugged the last blossoms into the air to buffet at their faces, brought to their senses all the scent of coming summer in the Black Forest.

They had found a clearing near the river that led to Badenheim, and it was there they'd set up the tent. The wonders of magic meant they only needed two square metres of space to pitch, which had been almost entirely done by Albus and Matt as Scorpius offered, as he put it, "guidance and oversight". Rose had been discovering that a bottomless bag had certain disadvantages, like _finding_ anything in it, and so Al and Scorpius had left the other three to try unpacking and finding their bearings while they investigated the town.

Steam was wafting through the flap in the tent and they ducked in to find Rose and Selena sat at the little round, wooden table in the main room with a pot of tea. Rose smiled at them both as they came in. 'Good timing.'

'I sensed there would be tea, and I was summoned. It's my magic power. Well, that, and having magic,' said Scorpius, extending an open hand towards the teapot greedily.

Rose swatted the hand. 'You can use your words, and your manners, and fetch your own mug. How's Badenheim?'

'Um.' Albus pulled up a chair. 'Quiet.'

'Yeah,' said Scorpius, going to the kitchenette and rummaging through the cupboards at random in a hunt for mugs. 'Good news: we found sausages. Bad news: I don't think there's a festival.'

Selena pursed her lips, and Scorpius made sure to have his eyes on her to watch her reaction. He saw only confusion and disappointment. 'Oh, really? I got the dates wrong?'

'How'd you hear about a festival out in the middle of nowhere, anyway?' asked Rose, finally giving up and going to the kitchenette to pointedly open the one cupboard Scorpius hadn't looked in, where the mugs sat. 'The middle of nowhere in Germany?'

Selena flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'It was in _Witch Weekly_,' she said without missing a beat. 'All about the scarves.'

'_Witch Weekly_ talked about the spring festival of a _Muggle_ village in _Germany_?' Rose quirked an eyebrow.

'They spent a quarter talking about international Muggle fashions and cultures. I think that month was all about the more _rustic_ end. It looked cute.' Selena smiled and picked up her mug.

_Every time I think she's not insipid..._ Scorpius sighed, grabbed two mugs, and sat himself down. To avoid more domestic troubles it was Albus who went for the teapot, instead of allowing Scorpius to assume that Rose was going to serve them. 'Not that asking this question should be an indication that I care, or anything, but where's Doyle?'

Rose sat down and took a sip of tea. 'He went for a walk,' she said, voice neutral. 'Said he wanted to get a feel for the nearby area. Seeing as you two had gone down to the town.'

Scorpius exchanged looks with Albus, who to his disappointment just wore a guilty expression. _No. Just because we're on holiday with the guy doesn't mean we have to be best buddies._ It was bad enough that he was going to have to share Rose's attention with the only other person on the trip who thought a book was exciting; sharing Albus would be crossing a line.

'There wasn't much down there,' said Albus reassuringly. 'I bet the woods are way more interesting.'

'It was all quiet?' said Selena, raising an eyebrow. 'Nothing going on down there?'

'Certainly no festival,' muttered Scorpius.

'I meant apart from the festival. Everything seemed normal?'

'What's normal? We've never been there before,' said Albus. 'But no, it's just a sleepy little village. I say we take in the woods tomorrow morning, then apparate back to Berlin in the afternoon and get the early evening portkey to Venice.' He looked around the table.

Rose nodded. 'That sounds nice. Though it _is_ very pretty here. I'm glad we've stopped off, we can have a nice night of camping and enjoy the area before we go.' She turned her smile on Selena, obviously trying to offer reassurance that she did not share Scorpius' opinion that this had been a gigantic waste of time, but Selena was stirring her tea, forehead wrinkled.

'I just thought there'd be more out here,' she admitted.

'There is!' came a voice from the doorway, and they turned to see Matt Doyle ducking through the tent flap. He was already in heavy, hob-nailed boots, a long waxed coat, and with his dark hair rumpled looked as if he'd just strode in from the moors on a windy, brooding day.

Scorpius hated him even more.

'I hiked up the hillside,' said Matt, and pulled a thermos out of his pocket as he sat down to pour himself what smelled like strong, fresh coffee. 'It's a hell of a view from up there, you can see the whole valley, and Badenheim's really pretty from up there. But...' He paused for a swig of coffee. 'There are castle ruins to the west. Perhaps a mile away. It must be Badenheim Castle.'

'That would make sense,' Scorpius drawled. 'Seeing as we're in Badenheim and it's a Castle._ I'd_ call it Badenheim Castle.'

Matt gave him a sideways glance. '_Apparently_ it wasn't just the Muggle seat of power in the region, but pre-Statute the local wizards were very influential and would have had envoys and advisers at the castle. It fell into disuse by wizards after the Statute, and by Muggles after the Napoleonic Wars, seeing as the formation of the Confederation of the Rhine and Baden becoming a Duchy instead of a Margraviate made for a lot of changes -'

'Do you just keep this sort of knowledge to hand for particularly riveting moments at parties?' Scorpius wondered, eyebrows raised, and sipped his tea.

Matt flushed. 'I sat down at the top and did some reading, actually. The castle's supposed to be deserted. I thought we might take a look - tomorrow, it's going to get dark before too long.'

Rose gave Scorpius a look. 'I think that sounds great. And interesting.'

Further betrayal came from an unexpected source. 'It is! What sort of stuff do you think's in there?' said Selena, leaning forwards to look intently at Matt.

He, for his part, looked quietly pleased. 'I only had a quick read and I don't have much on German history. And Badenheim isn't exactly important. But it doesn't seem to have been pawed over by historians, Muggle or Wizard, which is odd. Old holdings like that usually had all sorts - books, records, maybe some magical remains - and _someone_ would have shown interest.'

'So we could be talking old magic relics? Lost books?' said Selena, eyebrows raising.

'I admit, I'm just expecting some cool old castle ruins. I think Badenheim Castle would have been originally built by the Teutonic Knights, so it's probably a good seven hundred years old -'

'You know, we should have a campfire tonight,' said Scorpius abruptly, getting to his feet. 'I'm going to go find some wood.'

'I'll give you a hand,' said Albus, though Scorpius didn't wait before ducking out of the tent and storming across the clearing they were camped in to make for the tree-line. They were in the undergrowth, out of earshot from the tent, before Albus spoke again, and in his sulk Scorpius had almost forgotten he was with him. 'You don't need to be so tense.'

'"_Ooh, look at me, I read books and am an enormous nerd with my pretentious_ swooshy coat_!_"' Scorpius sneered, waving his hands in the air. '_"And I go for long walks in the woods and then read about them and then come swooshing back to talk about castle ruins"_...'

Albus' brow furrowed. 'You seem a bit fixated by his coat.'

'I _want_ it,' Scorpius grumbled. 'But what happened to the good old days, Al? What happened to the days where girls' eyes glazed over if a boy decided talking about _class_ was exciting?'

'Rose's eyes _never_ glazed over in those situations,' Albus pointed out, and decided to make himself useful by actually hunting for firewood. 'And if Selena was bored by academic talk, then I doubt her and Jones would have happened.'

'Like that was a real relationship,' Scorpius scoffed. 'Listen to her, she spent the last few months reading about quaint scarves.' He waved a dismissive hand. 'Thought I could count on her to find Doyle a bore, though.'

Albus hefted up a sizable log which would make a decent core of a fire and turned to him. 'Rose isn't going to dump you and run off with Matt because he's more academically-minded than you.'

Scorpius stared at him. 'What?'

'That's what this is about. You're intimidated by Matt and Rose both thinking an afternoon with a book is an afternoon well-spent -'

'Thanks for making me sound wholly illiterate -'

'They broke up for a reason, you know.'

'Apparently they were _too_ similar,' Scorpius sneered. 'What's _that_ all about?'

Albus turned his eyes skyward. 'I'm going to beat you with this log in a minute,' he sighed. 'Would you dump Rose for a girl who liked Quidditch?'

'No, or I'd be going out with Cheryl Hawkins and she might like Quidditch but she's also _mental_ -'

'Then give Rose a bit more credit.'

'I'm not _not_-crediting her -'

'You are, you're basically saying she's going to toss you to one side the moment she's talking with a bloke she shares an interest with -'

'I'm saying she - I -' Scorpius sputtered for a moment, then jabbed an accusing finger at the tent. 'What the hell do I contribute to a conversation when the two of them are wittering on together about the Confederation of the Rhine? I don't even know what that _is_!'

'Okay.' Albus pursed his lips. 'I'm going to tell you two things. The first is that you make Rose happy, you make her relaxed, and you are _not_ an idiot and you two can talk plenty about serious things. The second is that I know you won't believe me, so for the love of Merlin, _talk_ to her -'

'And, what, say I'm an insecure jackass who doesn't like her talking to her ex even though I said it was perfectly okay for him to come on holiday with us -'

'I'd make it sound less like you want her to stop talking to Matt and more like, "I'm upset, let's talk".'

Scorpius' nose wrinkled. 'Oh. This is one of those times where I need to do the girly thing of talk about my feelings even if there's no practical solution.'

'Yes. Fortunately, this _isn't_ a girly talk, because I've given you a practical solution.' Albus gave him a warm, reassuring grin. 'She's mad about you, mate. Matt's just a friend. You don't need to worry, you don't need to panic, and you really, _really_ need to help me carry this damn log.'

* * *

The situation was very strange. Matt had been set off talking about what he'd been reading, which Rose didn't find at all peculiar and was actually interested in. It had been so long, with the quarantine and the aftermath, since she had read academically for pleasure that she'd forgotten the satisfaction that came with it. And Matt had a genuine fascination with history, especially the intersection of Muggle and wizarding society, and was a good speaker when he got onto something he was passionate about.

None of this was odd. It was even nice, in a nostalgic sort of way. What made it odd to Rose, though, was that Selena was listening to Matt just as intently as she was.

He was now talking about how it was apocryphal that the "two-fingered salute" had risen at the Battle of Agincourt - Matt was a good speaker, but prone to diversion if invited down a tangent - but the thought of it still had Selena laughing. And as she laughed, she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Rose narrowed her eyes. _She's_ _**hair-flirting**_.

Selena caught her glance as she lowered her hand and seemed to realise she'd been noticed, her smile softening. 'Well. If the boys are out there building the fire, I'm going to freshen up before dinner,' she said, getting to her feet. When she headed to the girls' bunkroom, she let her fingers brush against Matt's shoulder, then trail across his back until she was past him, disappearing into the room.

Rose let the door shut and waited to the count of three before she looked at Matt and leaned over, voice dropping. 'You should be careful,' she said, expression creasing. 'You know she's a terrible flirt.'

Matt's gaze tensed. 'I can fend for myself, thanks, Rose.'

'I just mean - don't read too much into it. She's a flirt and I still think she's horribly upset about Methuselah -'

'So, even if it's just harmless flirting, I shouldn't at all flirt back, or respond?' But he raised his eyebrows and now she sensed the irritation hanging about him. 'Should I, perhaps, go live in a monastery?'

'What?'

Matt sat up. 'You ask me to come on holiday with you and your new boyfriend. I agree to that. I'm cool with that. Even if he's being an arse.'

'He's just -'

'Being an arse; whatever. I can handle Malfoy. But could _you_ be a little less transparent?'

Rose goggled. 'Transparent?'

'Warning me off the _moment_ I'm talking to another girl?'

'Bloody hell, Matt.' Rose's forehead creased. 'I was just giving you a friendly heads up.'

'She's not my type, it's nothing more than some fun attention and I can, in fact, take care of myself.' Matt got to his feet and straightened his coat. 'I find it telling your friendly advice is telling me to stay _away_ from another girl.' He ran a hand through the hair that dangled into his eyes, and she was intently reminded of finding his refusal to get a decent haircut _annoying_. 'I'm going for a walk before dinner. And maybe we can calm down. Because I don't fancy this holiday being a trial.'

'You're right,' said Rose, voice flat. 'I completely need to calm down, because I'm _obviously_ losing my rag right now.'

He looked like he was going to say something else, then didn't, just sighed and turned to duck out of the tent. Rose glared frustrated daggers at his back and reached to pour herself another cup of tea.

'And I wonder, sometimes,' she muttered to herself, 'why we broke up, you sanctimonious little...' But his words were troubling, still, rumbling around her head. _Had_ she just been wanting to give him a warning to not get too involved with Selena, even though she would bet that it _was_ nothing more than harmless flirting? Or had there been a pang at watching him enthusing about the things he loved at someone other than her?

_It's possible, _she mused, _that inviting him wasn't the best idea in the world_. If nothing else she was reminded of the accusation Selena had thrown at her months ago, that she had dumped Matt and then treated him like she expected him to be around as her friend when she wanted him, and then disappear into thin air when he was inconveniencing.

Then the door to the girls' bunkroom swung open and Selena herself marched out, now with more layers to brave the evening air. 'You should know,' she said in a cool, airy voice, 'that those walls block out _very_ little sound.'

Rose winced guiltily. 'There's nothing I can say to that, is there.'

'Not really.' Selena tossed a chiffon scarf over her shoulder. 'I'm not actually interested, and anyway, I'm not going _near_ your little... unresolved...ness.' She waved a hand in the direction of the canvas flaps out. 'But don't you deny me my fun, Weasley.'

'I'm not denying you your fun,' Rose sighed. 'I just worry. About you _both_. After Methuselah -'

'I should rip out all my hair and forsake all men forever?' She tossed her head and gave a wry laugh that Rose didn't find at all convincing. 'I know what I'm doing, and also you need to totally look to _your_ affairs of the heart before you go romping in mine. Because our boy Doyle might be an uppity little gent who's seeing what he wants to see, but he's not _completely_ blind.'

Then she sauntered outside, too, leaving Rose sat with a cooling teapot, an empty mug, a while to wait until dinner, and unpleasant prospects to consider about the weeks which lay before them.

Dinner started as an awkward affair which mercifully relaxed as time went on, mostly thanks to Albus keeping up the cheerful chatter. Scorpius seemed to have calmed down and by the time Matt returned from his walk, not long before Albus was dishing up, he, too, seemed rather less tense.

They were lucky they had Albus with them, Rose reflected once they were all sat around the crackling campfire, sat on blankets on the grass outside the tent, bathed in the rays of the dying sun at the end of the first day of their trip. Not just because he could brighten everyone's mood with just a grin and a kind word, but he was also the only one of them who could cook worth a damn.

'So it's, what, open once we get to Venice?' Matt was saying. 'No set plans?'

'A few options. You want to see Jerusalem, Scorpius wants to go to Casablanca, I want to go to Istanbul,' said Rose, giving Scorpius a piercing look.

'I'm not going to be bullied or bribed out of this,' he said, turning his nose up.

'Just because the film's the only Muggle movie you've ever seen!'

Matt grinned. 'You do know that wasn't actually filmed on-location?'

Scorpius looked crestfallen. 'Well,' he said. 'We could always have Paris.'

'I'm _totally_ on board with Paris,' chirped up Selena.

'True, but the point of going to Venice is because from there we can get any long-distance international Portkey. We can hit Europe on the way _back_,' Rose pointed out. 'I admit Istanbul isn't as far away as all that. But what about Cape Town?'

'Grab a map,' Scorpius suggested, putting his finished bowl down and flopping onto his back on the blanket next to her. 'Throw a dart. We go there.'

'Odds are good that'll be the middle of the ocean,' Matt said.

'Then, damn it, we'll swim!'

Rose gave him a look. 'I do actually have several possible routes, but I couldn't get these two to commit to one and now we have what you two would like to do to take into account as well,' she said, gaze falling on Matt and Selena.

Selena waved a hand. 'I don't _really_ mind,' she said. 'So long as we're not _always_ in a tent in the middle of nowhere.'

'Super unhelpfully, the only other place I can think of visiting right now is Rio - my dad spent some time out there and talked about the city - and that's about the one place in the world we _can't _go,' said Matt wryly. 'I'll bow to popular wisdom.'

'I'm so glad you're all so decisive,' said Rose archly. 'Istanbul it is. We can work our way east to India, maybe China, Thailand, Japan, then across to the Americas. Then end on Europe. Might as well do a full circuit.'

'Wow.' Albus' eyes widened. 'That's a whole lot of the world.'

She smiled. 'It's what we're here for, isn't it?'

'I have a question,' said Matt. 'How many languages do we have under our belts between us?'

'Er.' Rose tucked a springy lock of hair behind her ear. 'One and a lot of guide books.'

'My French is decent, though my Spanish is rusty,' offered Matt. 'Those language lessons were a _long_ time ago.'

'You'd think they'd have translation spells or something,' grumbled Scorpius.

'Actually, those would be _incredibly_ difficult to make,' Rose said. 'You'd either have to make them essentially a form of Legilimency to actively read the mind of the speaker so you knew what they meant, or you'd need a _very_ complicated and fluid spell which would understand not just precise words, but syntax, grammar, usage -'

'So basically there's going to have to be a lot of talking loudly, slowly, and pointing,' Scorpius said, and smirked at the disapproving look from Rose this won him.

Dinner, from there, came a lot easier. Less tension and sniping from Scorpius and, thus, less of the worried fussing from Albus. Selena drifted into disinterest and was the first to turn in, but it was fully dark by then, the night marching on around them. She could see Scorpius giving Albus pointed looks, and while her instinct was to find that annoying, a part of her couldn't help but agree.

One of the perks of this holiday was supposed to be a spot of privacy away from prying eyes, especially while not under the roof of her parents or her aunt and uncle.

Albus didn't scuttle off immediately. He made sure they'd cleaned up, he made sure the fire was going to burn itself out perfectly safely. He clattered about and made his pending departure obvious, along with a few covert glances at Matt, who seemed to ignore him. And then, just as he, too, slunk to the tent to head to the boys' bunkroom, Matt looked at Rose and said, 'So, why Istanbul?'

On some subconscious level, Rose was aware of Scorpius' eyes widening. She wouldn't be much aware of Scorpius on a conscious level until twenty minutes into her diatribe on the magical library and repository of relics in the city, on the vast importance in the wizarding world the city held - because that was about the point Scorpius sighed, got up, and pointedly proclaimed he was going to bed.

Leaving her, instead of being able to spend the last portion of the evening with some privacy with her boyfriend, sat across the fire with the rather smug form of her ex. Who had probably known damn well that getting her started like that was going to end like this.

'Yeah,' said Matt, calmly enough, once Scorpius had disappeared off inside. He got to his feet and dusted himself. 'Think I'll turn in, too. G'night.'

_I'm going,_ Rose decided as she sat on her own in the dark and glowered at trees,_ to murder him._

* * *

Badenheim was just as quiet the next morning as it had been the day before, but this suited Albus just fine. He'd woken up at a reasonable time and had still missed Matt getting up and apparently going for another hike about the local area with Selena. This had left just the three of them around the tent and, mindful of his advice to Scorpius the previous day, and having been awake enough to see the look on his friend's face when he'd slouched to bed, Albus had thought it prudent to slip away for a couple of hours.

So he was a little bitter at Matt and Selena for leaving him behind, but he could appreciate some solitude, could enjoy the village without someone, likely any of his four travel companions, making sarcastic commentary about the place. He could find himself somewhere for a cup of tea or coffee and a heartier breakfast than the toast he'd had up at the tent, and sit and watch the world for a little bit.

The place he found, in the end, looked like a mixture of a bakery and a tea house, though Matt had mentioned something about the term "tea house" having more connotations and connections with East Asia than Albus suspected had ever reached Badenheim. Either way, he suspected he could get a pastry and something to drink, and so ducked inside and prepared himself for a lot of vague gesticulating.

Two things struck him the moment he stepped into the low-roofed, stone building, cosy and warm and welcoming. The first was that the middle-aged man at the counter, the only person in there, greeted him in decent English.

The second was that the smell coming from the fireplace was _definitely_ Floo.

Albus relaxed. 'Oh,' he said, and smiled at the man. 'I thought this place was entirely Muggle.'

The proprietor had been giving him the cautious look of someone not yet certain of their assumption, but he returned the smile warmly, gesturing for him to come in and take a seat. 'It is, sir, it is. But I grew up here, and so, now, I live here again. I spotted you arrive yesterday. You are just passing through?'

'Yes, we'll be gone this afternoon.' Perhaps the morning was not a complete bust if he'd met a local wizard he could actually talk to. 'I was just coming to take a walk around the town.'

'I see. Tea? Let me make this one on me - it is not often I get wizards who come by Badenheim, thankfully.' The proprietor smiled and bustled about behind the counter.

Albus raised an eyebrow. 'Thankfully?' he echoed.

The man grimaced. 'Their business here is not usually so good. I had thought at first you were looking into the men who came a few days ago, but I see now - you are Hogwarts, yes?'

'Who came by?'

'I was not sure who they were. But they kept mostly from the village, not open as you and your friend were yesterday. Which is always worrying. And then they went up to the Castle so, of course, I was worried. It is not a place you should go, you know. I sent a message to the _Bundesmagie_ but nothing is back yet. Perhaps it is nothing.' He shrugged as he moved from behind the counter to put a teapot down on the circular wooden table Albus had picked on the teashop floor.

Albus' brow furrowed. 'What's wrong with the Castle? We're mostly here by mistake, one of my friends spotted the place. We _were_ going to look...'

The proprietor grimaced. 'You could. I would not. It is best people steer clear of there. I do not know what _is_ there, but I do know what _was_ there. It was, how do you say it - _Thule-Gesellschaft_, in the war.'

Albus looked blank. 'Who were they, the people who poked around?'

'I am not sure. As I said, I sent word. I think they are gone but if you are staying you should steer clear of them, hm? Young people like you, you don't want trouble. Hold on.' The man patted down his pockets before he pulled out a folded photograph. 'I took a picture, sent one with the message to Berlin. If you are leaving soon, no bad thing, but if you see these types, stay clear, yes?'

And he handed Albus a photo of Prometheus Thane stood on the outskirts of Badenheim.

* * *

_A/N: The sharp-eyed might have noticed that I waffled a bit over Badenheim__'s name (though at present it should all be consistent across this site). The village as portrayed in this story is entirely fictitious, though there is a municipality in Germany of that name. This was an unfortunate consequence of me playing around with Germanic etymology; coincidences, here, are coincidences._

'_Bundesmagie' was my stab at a believable name for a German magical government, however German is a language where my knowledge is distinctly lacking; I have attempted to do my research but please do correct me if it's some sort of abhorrent mangling of linguistics._

'_Thule-Gesellschaft' is not a term made up by me. We'll get to __**that **__later._


	6. The Bigger They Are

**The Bigger They Are**

'So, they're long gone,' said Scorpius as he ducked inside the tent, and accepted the mug of tea Rose offered him. 'Not a _clue_ where they're off to. Honestly, I'd rather not think about it.'

Rose wrinkled her nose before her expression cleared so abruptly he knew she'd just shoved a thought to one side rather than consider it. 'When did you see _Casablanca_?'

'What? Oh.' He pulled up the chair around the table next to her. 'Oakes showed us it in fourth year. Thought we needed educating on Muggle culture. That was the first movie we saw, only Bellamy said it was crap and they argued and we didn't watch any more. I'm not going to lie, I'm not really sure what was going _on_, but I knew I wanted to go to Casablanca.'

She grinned, her eyes lighting up. 'You're adorable.'

But the words twisted in his gut, and he put the mug down. Albus had told him to talk, and had given him a pointed look when he'd left the tent, and now they were on their own he had no excuses, really. He had to bring up what was bothering him. Except the only way he could think of starting was to blurt out, 'So you and Doyle got really chatty about Istanbul last night.'

Her gaze went guarded, and she pulled her hand back. 'Yeah. Uh, it was something we talked about once, seeing the libraries there. Look, I'm sorry if you wanted to talk last night, but you went to bed first -'

_Because it was getting later and later and you wouldn't_ _**stop**_, said the treacherous thought in his head. 'Oh, no, I guess you two just had lots to catch up with. Seeing as he's probably read, I don't know, fifty books on the topic.'

Rose got to her feet, expression stiffening. 'I don't want to - you know, you _agreed_ to him coming along -'

'Because I thought I could convince Selena. I thought she'd come with us so I figured, hey, why start a fight about not wanting to be trapped in a tent for a month with your ex?'

'You're right. _So_ much better for us to have a fight when it's too late to do something about it. You agreed to this, Scorpius, and so I'm not going to apologise for daring to be friendly with someone we're going to be spending this much time with!'

'No, I mean, why shouldn't you be friendly? It's not like _you'd_ be bothered if _I_ were spending this time being chatty with Miranda!' Scorpius got to his feet, too, and only then did he realise this was the opposite of how he'd wanted this talk to go.

'I'd be _confused_, because she _hurt_ you, while Matty and I are still friends, have been friends all along -'

'Oh, yeah, good friends, close friends, and, after all, he was the ex who got away, the one you _really_ liked, unlike Hector. Who was just a bit of fun and, probably, your rebound to get over _Doyle_...'

Rose looked struck at that, and he suspected he'd pointed out something she, herself, had never realised. It gave him no satisfaction. But still her gaze remained tense. 'I'm not going to apologise for this, Scorpius. You had all the time in the world to object, and it's _really_ too late now -'

'I'm not asking you to apologise,' he said, frustration at his own incompetence in putting this into sensible words bubbling over and, he suspected, making him sound frustrated with _her_.

'No? Then what _is_ this about?' She took a step forward, eyes blazing. 'What _possible_ reason do you have for complaining at me about talking to Matt other than you wanting me _not_ to!'

'I don't want you to _not_ talk to him,' said Scorpius, and mostly meant it. 'I _want_ you to be able to talk to _me_ like you talk to _him_!'

Now she looked confused. 'What?'

'See? Look - I can't even say _that_ right -' He tossed his hands in the air. 'Bloody hell, Rose, you two spent last night talking all about Istanbul and when you mentioned Constantinople I thought it was an _entirely different place_ for about five minutes, and he witters on about Badenheim's history and you're nodding like it makes sense when it really _doesn't_ to me!'

Silence fell after his outburst, Rose staring at him in shock - until a nervous giggle escaped her lips, and she lifted her hands to her mouth as if she could cram the sound back. 'Oh, my God,' she said. 'You're - are you mad?'

He blinked. 'Er, possibly? Why?'

'You're insecure. You're _actually_ insecure. Like you think you're not smart enough for me.' Then she burst out laughing.

He straightened and folded his arms across his chest. '...really not helping.'

Rose did look abashed, though she took a moment to compose herself. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I just - really? You think I'm going to like Matty more than you because we share a couple of interests?'

'That's a tiny bit of it,' Scorpius admitted. 'The rest is more you'll realise that I'm just some _slacker_ and you're _brilliant_ and -'

And then he didn't get any further with his confession, because that was when she stepped in and kissed him. It was sudden and he was surprised enough that he didn't have time to do more than lift his hands to her waist before she'd pulled back, fingers curling in his t-shirt. 'You're an idiot,' she said.

She was smiling, but he still quirked an eyebrow. 'Yes, that's the _point_ -'

'Not like _that_. Don't make me list your qualities again.' She sighed, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 'I'm sorry about Matt. Maybe he wasn't my wisest suggestion ever, but I was a bit panicked. I'm sorry he bugs you. But he _is_ my friend, and he _is_ here with us, so the both of us ostracising him strikes me as a way to guarantee this holiday will be _rotten_.'

He wrinkled his nose. 'I don't really mean _ignore_ him,' he mumbled.

'I like talking about things with him, but when it's over, _you're_ the one I want to talk about my day with, you're the one who makes me laugh and smile and feel better - and more than that,_ you're_ the one who sets me at ease. Who makes me feel good about _me_.' Her gaze softened. 'You're the only one I want to do this with.' Then she was kissing him again, a softer, slower, more languid embrace, and this time he had every chance to snake his hands around her. Except he had to really crane his neck down if he wanted her as close to him as possible, and all of a sudden _that_ wouldn't do -

She made a small noise of surprise when he moved on an impulse to hoist her into the air and onto the edge of the table, and then they were on a far more even level. He couldn't help but marvel how this, just a simple kiss, just being entangled with her while the rest of the world faded away, felt so infinitely different to how it ever had before with anyone else. And then a thought wormed into his brain and, before he knew it, Scorpius had broken the kiss, letting go of her to brace his hands on the table. 'Why did you laugh when you realised I was insecure?'

'What?' It took Rose a moment to come back to reality, her breathing deep, cheeks flushed. 'Oh. What?'

'Are _you_ insecure?'

'About what?'

'Me. You. Us. _Girls_.' Pieces were falling into place now, because while Scorpius didn't know books, he knew _people_, and he knew Rose.

She looked reluctant in a way which told him he was right. 'Is now really the time to...'

His hand slid up her arm to come to her chin, tilting her face up to his, and he leaned down to kiss her only lightly, right at the corner of her mouth. 'If I've got nothing to be insecure about,' he murmured, and grazed his lips across her cheek to the corner of her jaw, 'then you definitely don't.'

'I don't,' she protested, then her voice cut off, barely above a whisper. '...usually...'

'Because you're brilliant,' he breathed, planting a kiss just under her ear. 'And beautiful. And -'

'Except when you kiss me like that you know _exactly_ what you need to do to make me melt, when half the time _I _don't know how to do more than barely...' Her voice trailed off, and he lifted his head, brow furrowed, gaze meeting hers. She winced as they made eye contact, the honesty obviously awkward, and bit her lip. '...not that this is the most diplomatic discussion right now, but Matt and I were more of a... fumbling figuring-things-out, and Hector and I weren't together all _that_ long, really -'

'I don't care,' said Scorpius firmly, and mostly meant it. He meant it in the good way, anyway; the part of him that did care _liked _what he was hearing and was, he suspected, some sort of hind-brain, proto-male instinct approving of superiority over other men, and he didn't think listening to it was a good idea.

'I know, but_ I _do,' said Rose, and her voice was picking up speed now, in that way it did when she was _really_ bothered about something. He realised this issue had probably been cooking in her far longer than he'd realised. 'Because you're, I mean, well, wow, and I'm _not_, and I really don't want to be an embarrassment, or a _disappointment_, because it's not like I've got _that_ much clue what I'm doing -'

'Hey.' His fingertips came to her lips to stop the flow of words and, he feared, crazy. 'If I'm so amazing I can have any girl, right? And I want _you_.' His brow furrowed. 'That sounded better in my head.' But just as he fought for a way to express himself in a way which _wasn__'t _horrendously insulting or self-aggrandising, Albus threw open the tent flap and marched in.

Normally, they would have all been embarrassed. But Scorpius was too staggered by his misspeaking, and Rose was too embarrassed by her own babbling, and Albus looked far too distracted to care that he'd just marched in on the two of them still entangled on the dining table.

'We've got a problem,' said Albus, and the reason he didn't give a damn that he'd just interrupted them became obvious when he showed them the photo of Prometheus Thane.

* * *

Matt didn't get up early for any particular reason. The bunk-beds were comfortable enough, but it always took him time to settle in a new place, and so he woke naturally a little after dawn and couldn't drift back off again. The sounds of morning were enough to keep him up: the birdsong drifting through the canvas, the wind rushing through the branches of the nearby forest. Albus' gentle rumbling breathing that was too quiet to be a snore, but loud enough to keep one awake if one wasn't particularly restful.

So he rolled out of the bunk, pulled on his clothes, grabbed his boots, and made for the main living area.

He blinked with surprise when he saw he was not the only person awake - Selena was sat by the table, lacing up a pair of hefty hiking boots which looked brand new. She started when he appeared and looked up, gaze guilty. 'Oh. Morning.'

'Morning.' Matt ran a hand through his rumpled hair. 'Sorry. Thought I was the only morning bird.'

She shrugged. 'I didn't sleep so well.'

'Me neither.' He looked at her boots, at the sturdy trousers she wore, the jacket. 'Going for a walk?'

'Oh, I thought I'd just soak up the local area.' The guilt and apprehension faded as she looked at him and gave a sunny smile. 'I know we said we'd explore but it's _so_ nice out there, don't you think?'

He grinned. 'It's awesome for hiking, yeah. Did you want some company?'

She pursed her lips, and his heart sank as he spotted the hesitation there. Perhaps coming along on a trip where he received at best her and Albus' polite neutrality, at middle Rose's fluctuation reactions, and at worst Scorpius' outright hostility had not been his wisest move.

Then Selena smiled again, and his spirits rose. She was good, he thought, at smiling. Not that he'd lied to Rose or anything when he said he wasn't interested, but he was only human, and being smiled at by a pretty girl was nothing to complain about. Especially not when already feeling sorry for himself.

'Sure,' said Selena. 'You looked around the place more than me, anyway.'

So they pulled on their boots, he filled up his trusty coffee flask, and they set off while the sun was still new in the sky. There were no clouds above, nothing but dazzling light, but the cold of night had not yet cooked off, and the air smelled crisp, clean, promising.

'Show me where you went,' she said as they crossed the clearing, 'where you could see the castle. You said it was a great view.'

'It was,' he agreed, and led her to one of the northern paths, winding its way directly up the slope of the hill in whose shadow they nestled. 'Though it's quite a steep climb.'

'That's fine,' she said, following in his wake. 'I just want to see it.'

The way _was_ hard, and so they soon enough fell into silence as they tromped along the narrow but well-worn path that wound through the trees and along the rise. Here and there he stopped to help her scramble up a steeper patch of path, and quickly he slowed his pace to match hers, for she was clearly not accustomed to his kind of exercise. But he knew it would be worth it when they finally staggered their way to the crest of the hill, in between a pair of thick trees that were the last before a steep drop that granted them an unobstructed view of the west, and the local landscape of the Black Forest tumbled down the horizon before them.

Selena slumped against a tree, breathing heavily, but her eyes still locked on the view. 'Huh.'

'I know, right?' Matt grinned. 'And, look - the ruins, over there.' He pointed to the right, where indeed the crumbling spires of Badenheim Castle stabbed out from the tree-line. Once they might have pierced the sky but now they were nothing but collapsed finery, ruinous grey in a sea of vibrant green.

She lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the sun. 'You really think there's something in there?'

'I don't know,' he admitted. 'It's weird. A castle like this, someplace where wizards cooperated with Muggles in the past - I'm surprised there's not more written about it. It was a really off-hand mention of the place I found. Then again, I've not had more than just what's on my shelf to look at. It was odd, though. Not even a mention of the family name.'

'Oh, well.' Selena shrugged. 'At worst, cool ruins.'

'That's what I'm hoping. We'll find out later.'

She looked at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched as she must have heard the wistful note in his voice. 'Or we could go look now?'

Matt hesitated. 'Weren't we all going to look?'

'We were, but _they're _sleeping. Come on. We can go make sure the path is okay, or something. And maybe save them some time if we go there and it really is just a pile of rocks.'

'It could take a while,' he pointed out.

'Then we apparate there and back.'

He pursed his lips. 'Back, maybe,' he said, finally giving in. 'But not there. The walk's part of the _fun_.'

'Oh.' Her eyebrow arched as she looked at the path he gestured to, the one leading down by a different way he knew would loop around the sheer drop and take them towards the castle. 'Fun. That's what this is.'

He set off, grinning over his shoulder at her. 'This was your idea.'

'What can I say,' she said, stumbling after. 'I just _love_ history.'

'Really?'

'Well. Not when it's being taught in a classroom. Binns is _awful_. I don't know how you can want to read it for fun after his lessons.'

'I got into history before Hogwarts. I don't know why Stubbs hasn't fired Binns yet.'

'He probably can't. You won't be able to get rid of a tethered ghost so easily, and Binns' spiritual bond to his classroom is strong enough you'd probably need a full exorcism ritual complete with physical reagents from his mortal life and there's no guarantee any of those exist any more.'

Matt glanced at her. 'You don't say.' He tried to sound polite as she rattled off the information, though knew he came across more bewildered.

She wrinkled her nose. 'I heard it. Somewhere.'

Silence fell, and he wasn't sure why. So he just focused on tromping through the pretty forest, enjoying the scenery, and concentrating on making sure they took the right turns, went the right way. He had no desire to give Scorpius the satisfaction of him getting lost.

His brow furrowed. 'When _did_ Rose and Malfoy get together?'

She was frowning, too, when he looked over at her, and shook her head. 'Oh, no.'

'No, what?'

'I'm not getting into this. This - thing, whatever it is. You three.'

He glared at the path ahead. 'There's not an us _three_.'

'You know what I mean. You, and Scorpius and Rose, and _you_ and Rose...'

'There's _definitely_ not a me and Rose. Not for ages.'

'But you wish there were.'

Matt lifted his hands. 'I don't,' he protested, ducking under a low-hanging branch. 'We broke up a year ago, it was a mutual thing, and I got over it. She went out with Flynn and then Malfoy, so either she's over it or she's coping by going out with obnoxious jerks and meat-heads. Either way, it's not a thing. It's just always going to be awkward seeing an ex with their new boyfriend.'

'Mutual,' Selena mused. 'Do you mean you two sat down and said, "Well, clearly this isn't working, let's see other people", or did _she_ sit _you_ down and say that?'

He stumbled on a root. 'It wasn't like that. She didn't dump me. We just broke up.'

'Uh-huh.'

Matt stopped, turning to her sharply. 'I'm not a fool who got convinced that his dumping was something he wanted. It wasn't working out. We were bickering lots, over stupid stuff. We were better off calling it quits before we ended up hating each other.'

'Except that she -' Selena stopped herself, then adjusted her hair. 'Fine.' Her nose turned skyward and she continued along the path through the woods.

'What?'

'What, what?'

'You were going to say something.'

'I always do. I always have _lots_ of things to say,' she said, voice airy. 'Just nobody listens.'

'I'm listening,' he said, hurrying to catch up with her. 'Except that Rose _what_?'

'Who said "she" was Rose?'

'Context, and also because only Rose can inspire someone to enough loyalty to not want to speak badly of her while still noticing her _staggering_ hypocrisies.'

'Wow.' She arched an eyebrow at him. 'Maybe I _was_ wrong about you still having a thing for her after all. Harsh.' Selena shrugged. 'Rose is my friend. I said I wasn't getting into this. I've said too much, and I'm sure you're right. I don't want this blowing up on this trip. It's _far_ too important.'

Matt returned the raised eyebrow. 'Important? We're on _holiday_ -'

Then they heard the roar.

Selena jumped into him, and he had to grab her shoulders to stop them both from being bowled over by her momentum. He was still gripping tight in shock, though, and as he scanned the tree-line ahead he could spot the crumbled remains of granite walls a way ahead. They had been so caught up in their discussion that they'd not spotted the ruins of Badenheim Castle until they were almost on top of them.

This, however, was not as worrying as the twelve-foot tall hulking mass of muscle pounding through the trees at them. It was humanoid, wearing little more than furs, its skin a tough hide of calluses and thick hair, its features rounded, bulbous. Its arms were like tree-trunks, its fists like anvils, and with bubbling horror Matt realised exactly what it was.

Selena yanked herself out of his grip. 'Run!' she shrieked.

He grabbed her by the elbow. 'Run flat-out from a forest troll in its own home, are you _nuts_? Scatter!' He pushed her left and then darted right, throwing himself over a fallen log to scramble in an arc through the undergrowth, looping around the troll's momentum.

'And _then_ what?' Selena yelled, scrabbling away as the troll spotted them splitting and came to a long, skidding halt, rounded features furrowing with bewilderment and outrage.

'Hit it with everything you got!' Matt shouted, drawing his wand. 'It won't want a fair fight - bruise it and it'll run! _Stupefy_!' His spell rocketed across the trees to thud into the troll's hide. To his lack of surprise, the troll merely staggered; a spell which would incapacitate a human was going to need more punch to bring down something of its size and magical nature.

He did hit, though, and the troll reeled around towards him, opened its mouth, and gave another furious bellow before hurtling in his direction.

'Well,' Matt muttered as the creature bore down on him. 'That worked.' He hefted his wand and threw another spell, and another, but still the troll didn't falter. He swore under his breath and half-crouched, bracing himself, knowing his best bet was to lunge to the side at the last second when it was too late for the troll's charge to change course.

A split second before he leapt, there was a whistling through the air and a storm of debris came crashing down on the back of the troll. Leaves, rocks, twigs; the whole undergrowth was thrown like a wave through the air and impacted with a blow hard enough to make the troll stagger and roar.

It was also enough of a diversion to let Matt hurl himself away and scramble through the trees, getting a good bit of distance as the troll struggled to keep its footing. He looked at Selena, who stood a distance away with her wand raised, hair wild, the undergrowth before her all but stripped bare by her spell. 'Nice!' he called.

She didn't smile. 'Trick from an old friend. Now what?'

'It should -' Matt's blood went cold as the troll staggered, grabbed a hold of the nearest tree, and hauled itself upright before giving another crazed bellow. '...I don't get it! It should have had enough!'

Selena looked at the troll hurtling through the woods towards her. 'You want to tell him that?'

'Keep it up!' Matt bellowed, backing off to get some distance between the two of them, all the better to keep the troll's attention split. 'It'll tire before we do, raging like this!'

_Something has to be setting it off_, he thought, and set his eyes on a fallen log nearby. That would give it something to think about, and he lifted his wand to start to levitate it. _It__'s not normal for a troll to be this aggressive, even near its home. It should be thinking of withdrawing after running into a witch and wizard who know how to handle themselves._

The troll was nearly upon Selena, though, and so Matt gritted his teeth and flicked his wand, sending the fallen log flying through the air to crash into the troll. It was enough to knock it flying with a roar of pain into the next tree, and as Selena darted away he gave a tight smile of satisfaction. Surely _that_ would be enough.

But as the troll staggered upright, looking more dazed than enraged, Selena tripped.

'_Shit_,' Matt breathed as the troll spotted her, barely out of its reach, and he broke into a blind sprint, hurtling across the distance between them. 'Hey! Over here, you overgrown garden ornament!' He flung spells wildly, thoughtlessly, each of them thudding into the troll's hide before, when he was almost on top of the creature, one sliced through the hide on its left shoulder and drew blood.

It staggered and roared, and Selena took advantage of its distraction to roll away - then its arm shot out and Matt realised he'd closed the gap more than he should have when the troll's fist grabbed a handful of his coat.

'Doyle!' Selena shrieked, scrambling for her wand and flinging a Stun at the troll, but to no avail. Matt found himself lifted off his feet even as he struggled, brought up close to the troll's face, and from here he could smell the creature, the stench of its sweat and its waste, far worse than he thought a troll _should_ smell, far more wretched.

Then it punched him, the blow enough to send him flying back through the air. He hit the ground hard and kept skidding through the undergrowth before he thudded into a tree. His head cracked against the trunk and his vision exploded before his eyes, and with the world dancing and swirling before him, he could only barely make out the blur of the oncoming troll.

He could hear Selena shouting, though she sounded very far away, and no spells were flying. With a groan, Matt dragged himself to his feet as the troll bore down on him, and knew he was in no condition to dodge it again. Desperately he raised his wand, though everything blurred and it was like he had four hands, and no spell came to mind as he fought through the pain to focus -

Something else thudded into him from the left, grabbing him and dragging him sideways, and by instinct Matt flailed as he was tackled out of the path of the oncoming troll. The world spun - and made no sense. He couldn't see his own hands, feet, just the leaves kicking up behind him as he was dragged. And behind him, back by the tree he'd been thrown into, there still stood...

Himself?

What the hell was going on?

Several things happened at once. Whatever firm hands were on him bundled him to the ground, a low voice hissed, 'Don't move,' and the troll reached... whatever was stood where he'd been stood before the tree. The troll raised its fist, bellowed into the air, before punching right _through_ the shape. Its hand thudded into the tree and it gave another howl of pain.

Then a tree fell on it.

Matt just lay on the ground for a long moment, gasping for breath, the pain abating and his blurry vision returning to normal. The troll was collapsed, unmoving under the thick trunk of a tree which had been chopped down and dropped on top of it, and there was no sign of whatever it had been trying to pummel into oblivion, the shape that had looked like him. He _could_ see himself now, see his legs stretched out in the undergrowth - and as he looked up, he could see who had grabbed him.

Scorpius Malfoy was looking at the fallen troll, and punched the air. 'Ha! Sometimes I impress _even myself_.'

Matt sat up, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he squinted at the fallen tree just as Selena appeared around the side of it - and Albus, and Rose. He groaned. 'What the hell just happened?'

'I was _awesome_, that's what.' Scorpius beamed. 'Illusion spell to make the troll think you were still there, while I bundled you out of the way. And Al and Rose, oh, brought down a tree on top of it while it thought it was turning you into jam.'

'Sure,' said Rose as she hurried over to them. 'Make dropping a tree on a forest troll sound inconsequential.' She looked at Matt. 'Are you okay?'

'I'll be fine,' he groaned, getting unsteadily to his feet. 'Just battered. Nothing's broken. How come it didn't see you?' He looked at Scorpius.

Scorpius bundled the shimmery fabric he held in his left hand, before tossing it to Albus. 'Tricks of the trade. Cheers, mate.' He grinned at Albus, who caught the cloak, rolled his eyes, and shoved it in his pack, before Scorpius turned back to Matt. 'Guess I saved your life. You owe me a wizarding debt. That's how this works.'

'That is not,' Matt grumbled, hand still pressed to his head, 'how it works.' He hesitated, then gave a brisk nod which did hurt a little. 'Still, that was pretty nifty. Thanks. All of you.'

'We weren't exactly going to leave you to get flattened,' said Rose, frowning still as she looked at him.

'I was,' said Scorpius. 'Then I thought of something _really cool_.'

'Always glad to give you a leg up in looking cool, Malfoy. You need all the help you can get,' Matt drawled, then looked across the trees to Selena. 'You okay?'

She looked pale, dishevelled, but nodded. 'I've fought Dementors. This is nothing. But... thanks for the save.'

'I don't think that's getting back up again,' said Albus, sounding awkward as he crossed the undergrowth to join them. But his expression grew stern as he looked from them to the ruins of Badenheim that lurked not far away in the trees. 'But what were you _doing_ out here?'

'Going for a walk?' Matt raised an eyebrow at the accusatory tone. 'I know we said we'd come together but I didn't expect _trolls_ - and this one was pretty mental. It should have scarpered after Selena hit it.'

Albus ignored him and turned his gaze on Selena. 'No. Seriously,' he said, his voice low and flat. 'Why are we _here_?'

She folded her arms across her chest. 'I don't know what you're -'

'It's no coincidence you suggested we come here,' he snapped, shoulders squared. 'Not when Prometheus Thane was in town only _days_ ago!'

Matt's jaw dropped. 'Wait, what?'

'I spoke to a wizard in town, they said he'd been in the region and looking into the castle, which was apparently _suspicious_ and so they'd reported this to the authorities in Berlin. He gave me a picture. It's Thane.'

Scorpius pursed his lips. 'Did the guy actually say what's _wrong_ with the castle, by the way? Why is someone looking at it so bad?'

'Something's wrong here,' said Matt, focusing on what he _did_ know. He pointed at the troll. 'We hammered that thing and it kept going. It was enraged and it charged us from a long way off. No warning. No territorial posturing. It spotted us and went for us and didn't care that we were going to be a tough meal.'

Selena finished adjusting her hair and looked to the ruins. 'So let's go take a look at what pissed it off so much.'

'Are you _crazy_?' Albus stood stiff, brow furrowed. 'We are not tromping off after whatever Prometheus Thane was up to.'

'So we're just going to go home?' Selena arched an eyebrow. 'And do what?'

'Report it!'

'Like your friend in town already _did_, and _nobody_ came to look?'

Scorpius grimaced. 'She's got a point, mate. We can't turn around now.'

'We _can_.'

Rose moved to Albus' side and put a hand on his elbow. 'Let's take a look, Al. We can handle ourselves.'

'Exactly.' Then Scorpius fixed his gaze on Selena. 'But we're talking about this _later_.'

'I'm quaking, Malfoy,' she drawled, before turning on her heel and heading up the slope in the direction of the ruins.

Matt followed, shoving his hands in his pockets, his skull still thudding painfully. He would be fine, he knew - he'd suffered worse in the last few months of desperately hard work to get physically fit again after how wasted Phlegethon had left him - but the ache was still there.

Rose dropped back to join him as the five of them tromped towards the ruins, biting her lip. 'Are you sure you're okay?'

'I'm sure,' he said, then dropped his voice. 'Thanks to you guys. And especially Malfoy.'

She gave a tight smile. 'That sounded like it hurt to admit.'

'Not as much as being pummelled by a forest troll would have hurt. Albeit more long-lasting.' He frowned up the hill. 'What're you expecting to find?'

'I don't know. We'll know it when we find it.'

'Jesus.' Scorpius' voice from ahead sounded pained. 'Can anyone else _smell_ that?'

Matt sniffed the air, then regretted it. 'Smells like rotting meat.'

Selena was still in the front, and she was the first to step around the crumbled wall which blocked their view of the interior of the castle ruins. Then she stopped, lifted her hands to her mouth, and flew back behind the wall, very pale.

'What?' Albus darted up after her - and froze when he got to where she'd stood and saw what she saw. They all hurried up to join him, hearts in their throats, and so were a little more prepared when they saw the gruesome sight that lay ahead of them.

But only a little.

It was the ruined main courtyard of the castle that spread out before them, the ground hard, moss and weeds overrunning the masonry but the area was mostly clear, a broad, open expanse. Which meant they had a decent view of the bodies piled up in the corner, fresh enough to be corpses, old enough to stink to high heaven.

Matt's stomach churned. 'Trolls,' he said, breathing through his mouth. 'A small tribe. That's, what. Eight of them?' Somehow his mind detached itself from the truth of the slaughtered creatures, from the encrusted blood across their bodies and the masonry, leaving drag marks showing they'd been piled up intentionally, and focused on facts he could process.

'Oh, _hell_,' said Scorpius in a low voice. 'He came here and _slaughtered_ them.'

'That'll be why the one back there was so maddened,' said Rose. She was clutching Scorpius' arm, Matt could see, knuckles white. 'If it survived this and stuck around, no wonder it attacked anything on sight...'

Albus swallowed, then pushed forwards into the courtyard, wand raised. 'They're a few days old,' he said, voice thick. 'It matches what I was told in the village. But Prometheus Thane didn't come here to butcher some trolls and go home. He wanted something.'

'And he wouldn't have been alone,' said Rose. 'One wizard would struggle to take down a troll on their own, even one as good as Thane. He didn't butcher over half a dozen trolls single-handedly.'

'So there's something here,' said Albus. His brow furrowed. 'The wizard in town, he said something about the castle, said it was... I struggle to remember the word, it was in German. Sounded something like - Tools? Tool-Gesh-shelf? I'm sorry.' He winced.

Matt shrugged and looked around the masonry, the crumbled stonework. He padded towards the hulking ruin that was the building proper, shrouded in shadows and looking like ceilings and walls had come down and giving precious little of an interior to examine.

Then he spotted the engraving above the nearest doorway and stiffened. 'Thule,' he said.

'That's right.' Albus turned to him, brow furrowed. 'What is it?'

'The Thule Society. The gathering of witches and wizards who served Grindelwald and helped him in his collaboration and empowerment of the Muggles of the era. The ones who _codified_ pure-blooded supremacy.'

Scorpius arched an eyebrow. 'How do you know?'

'Because that's Grindelwald's mark there on the door,' said Matt, and pointed to the triangle that encased the circle and the single vertical line carved into the rock. 'And because that makes sense. No wonder there's so little written about this place if it was a holding of the Thule Society's in the war. So many records were destroyed by them, by the Magical Alliance, by the Muggles...'

'What did the Muggles care?' said Scorpius.

'You've seen _Casablanca_. They were going through their own war at the time. A similar crisis of - well, lots of things. But also couched in supremacy. Lineage. Bigotry.' Matt wrinkled his nose, the prospect more sickening than the stench from the corpses. 'The Thule Society propped them up, helped them; Grindelwald was going to use them to eventually exert his power over the Muggle world. The Magical Alliance kept them at bay and kept it all hush-hush, and God knows the Muggles didn't need magical help to do horrible things to one another for their own reasons, but...'

'While this might begin to explain why Thane came here,' said Selena, picking her way away from the decomposing pile of troll corpses, closer to the main body of the ruined castle, 'that doesn't explain it all.'

Matt shrugged. 'I don't have a clue.'

'Then let's think logically about this instead of guessing.' That was Rose, who wore a wry, tight smile as she pulled out her wand. 'Let's see what magical signatures we've got in the area.'

'How is it,' asked Scorpius, brow furrowed, 'that your ideas are brilliant, and yet obvious, and yet _none of us_ thought of them?'

Her smile broadened but she didn't answer, sweeping her wand across the area as her eyes narrowed in concentration. Matt headed for the marked doorway and stuck his head inside, but he saw nothing but a dark chamber where the ceiling had come down and blocked off any route further inside. 'It's not this way.'

'No,' said Rose, and pointed to her right, the opposite side of the courtyard to the slaughtered trolls. 'Over there.'

Scorpius went as directed, towards the rubble that was heaped up where she'd gestured, but he looked nonplussed. 'It's a pile of rock,' he said.

'It is,' said Matt, joining him, and pointed at the ground. 'But it's a pile of rock that's been recently moved. That scraping on the stone's reasonably recent, it's fresh and not worn away, look?'

'I'm definitely getting a sense of magic from this way,' said Rose. 'But _down_.'

'A passageway?' said Scorpius.

'Only one way to find out.' That was Albus, striding over to them, and he lifted his wand to begin to tug the heaped up rocks back, away from their bundle. Matt brought out his wand to help keep the process quick and steady, and with all five of them working away, soon they had cleared the pile of rocks to show a small, rounded doorway in the masonry - and the shadows as it led down into the earth.

'Oh,' said Scorpius in a flat, unhappy voice. 'A creepy underground tunnel in a castle once owned by Grindelwald's men that Prometheus Thane, international magical _bastard_ poked around in a few days ago. What could _possibly_ go wrong?'

* * *

_A/N: The Thule Society was once a real organisation. They were an occult society in pre-WW2 Germany and many of their members were linked to the Nazi party, though their involvement often gets exaggerated in fiction - which I, too, am doing here! I encourage anyone to read up if they are curious, and also to tell the difference between fact and my made-up rubbish._

_There is a long and honourable tradition of portraying them as the centrepiece of many __'Nazis were involved in the occult' stories, and considering the many implied links between Grindelwald and World War II (the time frame, Nurmengard and Nuremberg, the supremacist ideals), I am playing on that here. In this case, they are being presented as a section of Grindelwald's followers who were responsible for the occultism rumoured to be at play behind the scenes in WW2, as a part of Grindelwald's schemes of influencing and controlling Muggles. Though, as stressed, humanity does not need magic in order to be horrific to one another._

_We will learn more of the importance of this connection as time goes by!_

_The __'Magical Alliance' are my incredibly original name for a group of wizards opposed to Grindelwald and his followers._

_But why, and how, and what__'s going on? Read on! When, er, it's here._


	7. Into Darkness

**Into Darkness**

'This is a cell,' said Scorpius. 'And those are chairs with a lot of dried blood on them.' He felt sick and light-headed as he peered over Albus' shoulder through the doorway. This room was the first they'd come to at the end of a long, dark, dank corridor, though the passageway wound deeper into the earth.

'Yep.' Albus' hand rested on the handle of the metal door, knuckles white. 'And on the ground.' His voice, too, was cold and distant.

'Pretty empty, though.'

'Yep.' The door was closed firmly. 'We'll worry about _that_,' he said, 'if we find nothing else.'

Scorpius turned with relief to the others, then looked at Matt. 'So you read boring history for fun, Doyle,' he said, clutching for normalcy after the troll corpses and what he was horribly afraid was a murder scene. 'What do we expect in a lair of the Tool Society?'

'Thule,' said Matt, looking irritated.

'I think mine sounds better.'

He sighed. 'I know what the symbol is - everyone knows what the symbol is and what it'd mean out here. I know why this place might have dropped off the map; a lot of people tried to deny the history, pretend it hadn't happened, and considering how dangerous the Thule Society were, the Magical Alliance were in favour of this.'

'So, in short, you don't have a clue. Useful.' Scorpius was nervous, he knew this, and knew that antagonising Matt was an unhelpful way of making himself feel better. He still got elbowed in the ribs by Rose for his troubles.

Matt was glaring. 'Let's take a look, then. Don't see you volunteering to go first.'

Albus started as he turned and continued down the corridor. 'Maybe I should go first -'

'Al, I know you're good, but I _was_ Captain of the Duelling Club,' Matt said, brandishing his wand. 'I know what I'm doing.'

It was a lie, of course, but Scorpius thought it bad form to pick on that when _none_ of them knew what they were doing, so they hurried in Matt's wake. The corridor stretched down into a darkness the _Lumos_ spells from their wands could not break through wholly, and when they entered the long, rectangular chamber, it was as if the larger room had suddenly sprung out on them.

It was less a hall than an expansion of the corridor, four metres wide and stretching forwards a long way. At the far wall was an open arch leading to darkness, the masonry around the doorway carved with intricate markings Scorpius couldn't make out from this distance.

'Bet you that's magic,' he said helpfully.

'Awesome powers of deduction, Malfoy,' said Matt. 'Top of the class.' He lifted his wand and muttered under his breath, and lights detached themselves from the tip of the wand to flutter down the passageway. They found sconces on the wall and these burst into life, the magical flame casting eerie blue flickering across everything - but they could see.

The ancient masonry was smoother down here, far less damaged and more dry. It was not without the ravages of age, though, for of the dozen suits of armour that stood lining the walls down to the far end, only three had not been crushed, or toppled, or wrecked so badly as to look like maimed mannequins by time or collapsed stonework. To the left of the far door hung a sword on a rack on the wall; on the right, there were only the brackets where one might have hung, and shattered metal on the floor below.

Rose stepped up next to Matt, eyes wide. 'Is _this_ the Thule Society's?' Her voice was hushed.

'Possibly,' he said. 'It's not like their respect for the old ways, for ancient history, wasn't infamous. I don't know what this place is, though.'

'Still reckon that door's magic,' muttered Scorpius.

Matt gave him an irritated look over his shoulder. 'Then Rose and I will take a look and make sure it's not going to hurt you, hey, Malfoy?'

His expression pinched. 'Do try to not walk _through_ it without checking.'

Albus clasped his shoulder as Rose and Matt made their cautious way down the corridor to the far end. 'Easy, mate. Now's not the time for this.'

'Should have let the troll get him,' Scorpius muttered. He looked at Selena, who had been silent for a while, expression set with that gaze of determined disinterest he had realised was a well-studied look. He shook his head and ambled further down the corridor, peering at the suits of armour with their intricate metalwork and their Greek cross emblazoned on the breastplate, the tint of red faded from time. 'Why do wizards _keep_ these things around, anyway?'

'To look ominous and pretentious, I guess,' said Selena, looking down the passageway towards the door Matt and Rose approached. 'Does he know what he's doing?'

'No,' said Scorpius. 'But she does.'

Selena's nose wrinkled. 'Fair point.'

He turned to her, irritation bubbling. 'I thought he was your new favourite, anyway, the one you dragged out here oh-so-coincidentally. The latest diversion.'

Something flashed in her eyes - then she sniffed, tossed her hair, and was calm, superior Selena again. 'You never were as smart as you thought you were, Scorpius.'

'All right,' said Albus, lips thinning. 'That's enough, let's join them.' They turned to the far end - just as Rose and Matt reached the large paving slab directly before the door, and Scorpius' bet that the archway was magical proved, if not wrong, then not the most pressing magical presence. Because the paving slab definitely was.

There was a rumbling of stone from above before a dazzling blue light shone down from a gap in the masonry, a perfect circle that engulfed the whole paving slab - and Matt and Rose. Scorpius could only see their silhouetted forms through the glare, and his heart leapt into his throat.

He was moving without thinking, lunging forwards, before Albus grabbed him by the collar, grip tight. 'Don't _touch_ anything,' he hissed. 'Not before we know what -'

Then a voice boomed from all around them, deep, guttural - and speaking, so far as Scorpius could tell in his frantic state, absolute gibberish.

Matt, bathed in light, squinted upwards. 'It's German,' he said, voice echoing down the passageway to reach them.

'What're they saying?' Rose sounded taut.

'I don't know, I don't _speak_ German -'

'Are you okay?' called Scorpius, shaking off Albus' hand but not moving. '...both of you?'

'We're fine, I _feel_ fine anyway, I can move, I just... don't know what this is.' Rose lifted her wand cautiously, and there was a moment's silence as she worked. 'It's some sort of, er... analysis spell, but I _think_ I can interface with it and make that voice talk English...'

'Oh, good,' said Scorpius, fists clenched at his side. 'Comprehensible death threats.'

Then the German voice, male and deep, started again - and mid-way through shifted to English, as if without missing a beat.

'_-firm lineage two generations past_.'

Matt's nose wrinkled. 'Confirm lineage two generations back?' he asked, looking upwards.

'_Identify name and family, and confirm lineage two generations past_,' came the voice, echoing down the corridor.

Scorpius took a few slow steps forward, and Albus and Selena kept cautious pace with him - to keep together and, he suspected, to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. 'Can you step out of that light?' he asked.

'I _can_,' said Rose, wand still lifted. 'I'm detecting some sort of... well, sensor for that, though. It'll make _something_ happen if we just step off.'

'Fine.' Matt squared his shoulders, gaze still lifted. 'My name is Matthias Doyle, son of Gabriel Doyle and Jennifer Riley, grandson of Abidan Doyle, Isobel Maudsley, Andrew Riley, and Leanne Hustings.'

The light shimmered, and Scorpius tensed before the voice came again. '_Lineage confirmed. Pure heritage accepted_.'

And everyone stared at Rose, whose lips pursed. 'Well, bugger.'

'Make something up,' Scorpius hissed.

'There's _definitely_ a detection element to this, I don't think it's just about my _say-so_.'

'What'll happen if you just say, "_Hi, half-blood here,_ so _sorry for invading your spooky lair of bigotry_"?' said Selena.

'I don't know. And I don't know what'll happen if I step off. It might just deny me access further in.'

'_Final opportunity_,' came the voice. '_Identify name and family, and confirm lineage two generations past_.'

'There's no sort of... I'm not detecting any hanging spells to _do_ anything to me while on this spot,' said Rose, and drew a deep breath. 'Fuck it. Rose Weasley, daughter of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, granddaughter of Arthur Weasley, Molly Prewett, John Granger, and Abigail, er, Wright, I think.'

'Yeah, it's _super important_ you get the _Muggle_ grandmother's name right,' Scorpius muttered. Fear was bubbling in his gut, and his grip on his wand was iron-tight.

The light shimmered. Faded. And, for a long moment as Matt and Rose gaped around them, nothing happened. Until the voice came again. '_Lineage confirmed. Tainted heritage... rejected. Commencing purge_.'

'Oh,' said Matt. 'That's not a good word.'

Then the sound of metal scraping on stone filled the passageway as the suits of armour began to yank themselves to life.

There were, as Scorpius had observed earlier, only three that were intact. One was near the door they'd come through, and marched from its resting place to block the way out, both gauntlets clutching the haft of its halberd. At the other end, near to Matt and Rose, another suit of armour, empty-handed, hobbled out, its sabatons twisted enough that its gait was awkward, lurching. And, right in front of Scorpius as he looked around, a third stepped out from behind Albus to swing a sword directly at his skull.

He screamed a warning, but Albus was already moving and the wind whistled as the suit of armour's blade sang through the space he'd occupied a heartbeat ago. And still the scraping sound continued - these three suits of armour might have been the only ones intact, but all around the passageway metal boots rattled, gauntlets dragged themselves across stone, and thudding came from under piles of fallen masonry.

The decorations were alive, and trying to kill them.

Scorpius' wand was up the moment Albus was out of the way, and he shot a blasting curse at the breastplate of the suit of armour that had tried to mince him. It thudded into the metal, the impact enough to rip the plating away completely, and Scorpius grinned with satisfaction -

- until he saw the carved stone torso underneath the breastplate, and that the suit of armour was not in the least bit impeded by losing a little metal.

The suit by the door, the one with the halberd, was still not moving, keeping its guarding position. The mangled one at the far end still limped at Matt and Rose, but the one with the sword lunged for Scorpius with a warrior's grace, and only by flailing back desperately did the blade meet only air. 'What the hell is that? What _is_ it?'

'Oh, _shit_.' That was Matt. 'They're not transfigured, they're

_s_ - magical constructs, they -'

Albus lashed out a spell at the exposed chest of the golem trying to turn Scorpius into a kebab, and shock turned to sheer horror as the magic impacted - then rippled across the stone torso and dissipated into nothing.

'...and are basically magic-resistant,' Matt finished.

'Oh! Good!' Scorpius snarled. 'So what do we do?'

Albus snapped his wand out to the side. 'This!' He dragged a lump of masonry the size of his skull through the air to thud into the sword-wielding golem's back. Cracks splintered across the stonework of its magically-constructed form and the golem staggered - but remained upright, and whirled around to face Albus.

'Guess they're not immune to rock,' Scorpius observed.

'Target the arms and legs, they'll be more vulnerable!' said Albus, ducking under a flashing blade.

'Behind you!' That was Selena, and Albus whirled around to see the golem who'd been guarding the door decide to intervene, perhaps now they'd figured out how to hurt them. The halberd feinted high - then its haft swung low, and Albus' legs were swept out from under him, knocking him to the stone floor.

'Shit.' Scorpius backed off and stuck his wand up, yanking a chunk of masonry from the ceiling free and bringing it crashing down on the head of the sword-wielding golem, which had also been bearing down on Albus. The helmet was cracked off and the golem whirled around to show its features - a sloping, curved face, like someone had started sculpting a human out of clay but not got further than the basic features. There were markings on its forehead, but it wasn't those which drew Scorpius' attention - it was the eyes, which blazed a dark, fierce red.

It opened its facsimile of a mouth, which seemed to have been bewilderingly stuffed with a roll of paper, and the noise which came out was like the angry roar of a steam train.

'Same to you, mate,' said Scorpius, and flicked his wand as he stepped sharply to his right. The air shimmered to the left of him and then he was joined by two shapes about his size, blurry and indistinct illusions of himself, the like of which he'd placed over Matt in the face of the forest troll. He'd not used this technique much before - the magic was unpractised, the illusions obviously not real, not precise enough, but it had been enough against a raging forest troll and he hoped it would be enough against a dumb golem.

Over the golem's shoulder he could see Selena sending a lump of fallen masonry skidding along the ground to knock the one stood over Albus to the ground. Albus was rolling away from the tumbling halberd, getting to his feet, and reaching with his wand for more rocks. Down the other end of the hallway Rose flung discarded chunks of armour of the golems to whom time had not been so kind at the maimed one limping at her, ducking and backing off every time it got close enough to swing a closed gauntlet at her skull, and Matt was -

_Is he cowering in the corner?_ Shock rang through Scorpius, but he didn't have long to reflect on this as the golem before him seemed to take stock of the three targeting options before it - and went straight for him. Either it was lucky or the illusion hadn't worked, because Scorpius was forced to throw himself back from the swinging blade.

But he was closer to the wall than he'd thought, and his back slammed into the masonry, making his dodge not enough - and the tip of the golem's blade, fiercely sharp, sliced across his left thigh. For a split second he couldn't feel anything - then blood welled up, and searing agony with it, and without shame, Scorpius screamed.

The golem kept coming, though, and desperately he lashed out with his wand. Despite the pain there was a rush of clarity born of the burning desire to _live_, and so instead of focusing a spell at the golem he blasted as much power as he could at the hilt of the sword bearing down on him.

There was the sound of shattering metal as the cross-guard broke and, with it, the blade was sundered clean off the hilt. The golem stopped at this, staring for a moment at its ruined weapon, and Scorpius - despite the pain - gave a smug, languid grin.

'What're you going to do now, huh?'

The golem seemed to think about this for a moment. Then grabbed him by the throat.

Black spots surged before Scorpius' eyes as he was slammed against the wall again, air knocked out of him and throat too tightly squeezed by impossible strength for him to take another breath. He flailed, free hand latching onto the golem's wrist to tug without success, wand coming up - and the golem's free hand batted his wand away, knocking it from his grasp.

His vision blurred, both hands clutched uselessly at the arm pinning him, and the yelling of the others became distant, detached, irrelevant - everything became irrelevant, really, and the choking was an awful lot more like _floating_ -

Then there was an almighty crash and the pressure around his neck loosened. Scorpius collapsed, still gripping the wrist of the golem as he fell to the ground, and as burning air rushed into desperately grateful lungs, he only distantly realised it was odd he was still holding the golem's hand while the creature stood over him.

The golem made that roaring noise again, reeling around to face whatever had struck it, whoever had severed its arm from its body. Scorpius blinked up at the shape of what he assumed was Albus, who swung a hefty club right at the golem's chest, knocking the creature staggering backwards.

But as Albus' coat flapped around him, Scorpius realised the shape was too small to be Albus, and the air in his lungs tasted more bitter at the dawning truth that he'd just been saved by Matthias Doyle. Matthias Doyle wielding not a stick, but a _sword_, no less.

He was really starting to hate that guy.

Then a shadow blocked out the flickering blue lights from the sconces as Rose appeared over him, face pale, worried. 'He's still conscious.'

'I'm okay,' he rasped, or tried to, still feeling weak, light-headed.

But Rose didn't answer, and as he saw her scrabble for her bag he could see her hands were covered in blood - then she gave up and tossed the bag to the side. With the world swimming above Scorpius, he could see Albus also standing over him as his friend caught the bag. 'Essence of Dittany,' said Rose, 'it's in there, find it - Scorp, listen to me -'

Her hair was shimmering in the blue light which cast it in an odd hue, ethereal, transcending the pain and aches of the moment. 'You're really pretty,' he said, the thought striking him as terribly important. 'I don't say that enough...'

'Oh, thank God,' said Rose, which he thought was a bit much - he _obviously_ didn't say it enough if she was _that_ pleased. 'It missed the artery, it's not _that_ bad...'

'No, seriously,' Scorpius slurred. 'You're all, like, "_I know what to do_", then, "_bang, success_!" and that's really hot -'

Then she muttered a healing spell and the dull pain in his left thigh turned into a livid fire of agony. He screamed again.

By the time the echo had died down, so had the worst of the pain, and Scorpius lay there drawing ragged breaths as reality rushed back in. Now he could think more clearly, breathe more easily, could feel Rose stroking his hair and see the concerned faces of the others over him.

He closed his eyes, inhaled unsteadily, and tried to sound normal. 'What happened?'

'We tripped a Thule Society - probably - defence when it realised I'm not a pure-blood,' said Rose, voice gentle, worried. 'It activated the golems and set them on us.'

'We were lucky only three of them were still in one piece,' said Albus, stood a short distance away with his arms folded across his chest. 'That was hard enough. We'd have stood no chance against a full dozen.'

'Is everyone okay?' croaked Scorpius.

'Yeah,' said Rose, corners of her eyes crinkling as she gave a worried smile. 'We're fine. You got slashed, it looked worse than it was. I've patched you up, you just take a moment.'

'No worries there. How'd you _beat_ them?'

'Strong resistance to magic doesn't mean they can't be pummelled into pieces,' said Albus, voice tight. 'We paggered ours with rocks.'

'So why does Doyle have a sword?'

Rose looked over her shoulder. 'Good question.'

From the sounds of it, Matt had been dispatching the errant crawling gauntlets, and after a few seconds he came padding back over. He did, indeed, have a sword in his hand, the blade some three feet long. 'I assume you saw the insignia on the breastplates,' he said.

Scorpius gritted his teeth and fought to sit up, aided by the willing hand of Rose, who seemed reluctant to move from his side any time soon. 'Let's say I wasn't studying the armour.'

'The colouring was faded on some of them but it's definitely a red cross. I didn't think much of it until they moved, and then I noticed the same red cross on the hilt of this sword on the wall.' Matt adjusted the grip to display the pommel, and indeed the rounded metal was emblazoned with a red cross. 'When I was trying to figure out for sure if they were golems when they kicked off, I realised this was also magical.'

'So use a magic sword against constructs which resist magic? Smart,' Scorpius croaked.

'You don't understand,' said Matt. 'It _disrupts_ magic. That's why it could chop through the golems. It broke the enchantments on them as well as hacking its way through, rendering them inert.'

'Why,' said Albus flatly, 'would they leave a sword which can hurt their guard-golems on the wall right there?'

'Well, there were some serious wards around it; if all twelve golems had been active I wouldn't have had the luxury of letting Rose hold them off while I punched through the protections. _I'm_ more curious what the Thule Society were doing with old Templar relics.'

Scorpius rubbed his head. 'I've missed something here.'

'Me too,' said Selena. 'Because none of this is getting to the bottom of what Thane was doing here.'

'He's a pure-blood,' said Scorpius. 'He could have got past this without fuss. Maybe we should see what these were defences _to_.'

'Maybe _we_ should,' said Rose, hand still on his arm. 'You've been choked and stabbed -'

'Slashed, technically.' He managed a wan smile and squeezed her hand. 'I'm okay. You do good work. But this is about _Thane_. I want to see this.'

'I've got him,' said Albus, moving to his side, and leaned down to all but haul Scorpius to his feet, one arm slung around him, and it became very easy to hobble when he had the huge strength of his best friend supporting him.

Scorpius, nevertheless, looked to Matt. 'So you chopped the golem's arm off with a magic sword.'

Matt gave him a guarded look, then nodded. 'It worked on the other one.' He jerked his head towards the far passageway, where the maimed golem lay in a crumbled heap, a more respectable bundle than the one which had guarded the door they'd come through - which lay twitching under a heavy pile of rubble.

'Well.' Scorpius pursed his lips. 'Guess that makes us even. No wizarding debt. And this time I got to be charitable and make _you_ look cool.'

Matt's lips twitched. 'Guess so.'

Rose eyeballed Matt critically. 'Do you even know how to use a sword?'

'No,' he admitted, and turned to the far passageway. 'But I know how to hit something magical with a magic-disrupting weapon. And it worked, didn't it?' He headed down the corridor, the others following him in a bundle of Albus helping Scorpius limp and Rose worrying alongside them, Selena prowling at the rear.

When Matt stepped onto the large paving stone that had set this all off, nothing happened. When Rose, Albus and Scorpius did, the blue light shone down again, and once more came the voice. '_Identify name and family, and confirm lineage two generations past_.'

Scorpius rolled his eyes. 'Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of go _fuck_ yourself, you ran out of golems.' Then, with Albus' help, he limped off the paving slab towards the archway, and the blue light died.

'_Lineage confirmation aborted. Commencing purge_,' came the voice, but this time absolutely nothing happened.

'So I guess we were a bit damned the moment I stepped on that thing,' said Rose, and looked to the archway. She squinted at the engravings across the masonry, wand in hand. 'That doesn't look magical.'

'It's just writing, I think,' said Matt. 'Looks German. "_Was ihr seid, das waren wir._"'

'Which means?' asked Scorpius.

'I have no idea.'

'Oh!' Rose pulled her bag off Albus and began scrabbling around in it. 'Phrase book here...'

'This is the most magical deciphering in the history of ever,' drawled Selena, and lifted her wand, muttering. 'That door isn't actually magic,' she said. 'It's just an archway with pretentious foreign writing.'

Rose gave her a look. 'It's not _pretentious_ if it's written in German in _Germany_.'

'We should also _really_ make sure -'

But Matt stopped as Selena shrugged and stepped through the doorway into the gloom. And absolutely nothing happened.

She looked over her shoulder and gave them the look of arch superiority she usually reserved for if someone wore _that_ jacket with _that_ top. 'There comes a point where you're fussing for the sake of it. If there was something down here, it would have come out when the golems -'

Then the darkness behind her evaporated as sconces around the stone chamber burst to life with blue flames. They all jumped, there was a general shout of surprise, and Selena squeaked and dived back through the door, grabbing at Albus' free arm.

The chamber through the archway was large and rounded, the ceiling low, the masonry sturdy. All around the wall had been set sturdy doorways which were once sealed with hulking secure doors that reminded Scorpius of the vaults of Gringotts - except they were all open, showing gloomy, small, bare stone rooms beyond. And the main chamber was empty.

Selena drew a hissing breath. 'Not funny, Doyle.'

Matt's voice sounded tense. 'That wasn't me.'

'Then what,' muttered Scorpius, 'turned the lights the hell on?'

Rose inhaled sharply. 'I've figured out the inscription. It says: _"We were what you are, what we are you shall be."_'

'Ominous. And vague,' said Albus.

'Oh, this is still silly,' said Selena, and stepped back through the door. 'Hello?'

'Are you going to keep on doing stupid things,' asked Scorpius, eyebrows raising, 'and then freak out when something bad happens?'

'You can go home if you want, Scorp, but Thane was here for a -'

'_Thane_.'

The voice was not the same as the one which had come from the detection spell before the door. This one echoed within the chamber, harsh and rasping, rattling from one of the vaults. It conjured the image of chains dragging on rock, of sandpaper on an open wound, of grinding bones. But this time Selena stood her ground as a shape shimmered from out of one of the vaults into view. He was a middle-aged men, wearing robes of a fashion almost a century old, severe of feature and stern of bearing. To call him "pasty" would be a bad joke.

Matt drew a hissing breath. 'A ghost,' he muttered.

'Yes, _thank_ you, Doyle, I couldn't have guessed from the whole transparency thing,' said Selena, then fixed her gaze on the man. 'Prometheus Thane was here?'

'That was his name,' said the ghost. His grating voice was accented, though the tones were still lyrical despite the harshness, measured, educated. 'He came with the impure to our holding and thought he could take what he willed.'

Albus shuffled forward, and Scorpius had no choice but to shuffle with him. 'Who are you?'

'Kerner. A martyr of Grindelwald. The loyal. The waiting. The lost.'

'What _is_ this place?' That was Matt, gaze sweeping across the chamber.

'My home,' said the ghost of Kerner. 'And with the blessing and aid of my brothers, one of the Thule Society's most treasured repositories of wealth and power. Gathered from across the world to strengthen our empire.'

'Your empire _fell_,' pointed out Scorpius.

'Also, using golem magic?' Matt wrinkled his nose. 'Considering how closely you worked with the Muggles, isn't that a _little_ hypocritical?'

'Insulting him doesn't get us answers,' whispered Selena. 'Why was Thane here?'

'Guided here,' said Kerner, and his pallid features twisted. 'Led here by one of our own. One who did not stand loyal. Who hid for a hundred years. Once a brother of the society, who survived like a rat and now professes to be returning to our great master's work -'

'Who?' Selena said.

Kerner tensed. 'Raskoph. _Colonel_, as he still calls himself, though no armies know him, though it was a title given him by _lesser_ creatures...'

'Lesser creatures...' Matt's expression twisted in thought. 'Muggles. Thane's working with a member of the Thule Society who was also a Colonel in the Muggle -' He stopped and goggled. 'Prometheus Thane is _actually_ working with a _Nazi_.'

'It's like murdering schoolchildren wasn't evil enough,' Rose muttered.

'Raskoph led Thane and his ilk here,' said Kerner. 'And said the riches were theirs. As if he still held claim to the treasures of the Thule Society when we died for our Master, and he hid and lied and denied the cause.'

'Did you die here?' said Albus.

'Hunted here. Your English wizards, the Alliance. Drove me to my home and cut me down as if it were justice. But they did not find this place, and it was my duty to rest _here_. Time and tides have revealed the repository, though.'

'What did Thane _take_?' pressed Selena.

'Everything,' said Kerner. 'My fellows and I scoured Europe for its riches. Took what the weak could not hold, the treasures of their ancients. The Staff of Gwydion, the skull of Atlantes, records of the Oracles of Delphi - and yet it was not enough.'

'He wanted something else?' said Albus. 'Something specific?'

'Something we did not have. Something that eluded us.' Kerner scowled. 'We raided the Templar's lairs in Paris. We found their shattered relics, we found their Judaic guardians. But the prize was not there. Thane thought we had found it. Disappointing him is the only satisfaction taken from the desecration of my home.'

'What did he want?' asked Selena, nose wrinkling.

'What do all such men want? Mastery of life and death. The Chalice of Emrys.'

Scorpius actually laughed. 'Ah, yes, mythical objects are always worth a good chase.'

Rose leaned in to him. 'The Resurrection Stone was considered a myth until not all that long ago,' she said, which shut him up.

Matt frowned at Kerner. 'The _Templars_ had the Chalice of Emrys?'

'So we thought. It had been theirs in the Crusades and then returned to Europe, undiscovered by the Papacy as they tore them asunder. When the Muggles took Paris, we dug for their holdings and found the treasures they tried to keep for themselves in their greed. All except the Chalice. No doubt spirited away by those lingering loyalists.'

'Why did Thane and this Raskoph want it?' said Selena.

'Why would any man want to bridge the river between life and death?' said Kerner. 'They told me not their designs. They ransacked the place, they even turned their fury on their prisoner.'

'Prisoner?'

'An old man. The Professor, they called him. He suffered. Long did he suffer. And he died, though not before he did, in the end, talk. I could have told them - but they ignored me, and I was not of a mind to give them answers.'

She cocked her head. 'You gave _us_ answers.'

Kerner's ghostly visage twisted into a thin smile. 'You are no friend of Thane's. That much is plain. What is your name, girl?'

'Selena.' Her chin tilted up a half-inch, defiant. 'Selena Rourke.'

'Rourke. I fought a Rourke once, an Alliance Wizard. Alexander.'

'My great-grandfather.'

'I see. And when you find this Thane. What will you do, _Fr__äulein_ Rourke?'

There was no hesitation in Selena's voice when she answered, and to Scorpius it was as if the temperature in the room dropped. 'Oh, I'm going to kill him.'

Kerner's thin smile expanded. 'Their Professor told them of my brethren's hunt through Paris for the Chalice, before he died. He had been wily, suspected my brethren did not find it and bring it to Badenheim, but let Raskoph and Thane and their people run around here to no avail. Still in the end he gave them knowledge of Paris, and so that is where they have gone. To hunt the Templar secrets, to presume that they can find what the Thule Society could not.'

Albus narrowed his eyes. 'Why do you care?'

Kerner turned, sweeping back towards the vault he'd come from. 'I cannot guard anything but the memories of my Master and our cause, not any more. So I shall settle for the satisfaction of vengeance on the traitor and those who aid him.' The ghost paused in the hefty open doorway, then looked over his shoulder. 'Beware Raskoph. I know not what made him show his face after eighty years of silence. He was one of our best, and he will have his reasons for acting.' He gave them a stiff nod. 'For the greater good.'

Then he was gone, and with his disappearance, so died the light from the sconces on the walls, setting the with darkness before them and the flickering illumination of the passageway behind.

Albus was the first to speak, his arm around Scorpius still secure, his voice tense. 'Let's get back,' he said. 'And then we can make sense of this.'

* * *

Scorpius remained standing once they'd ducked back into the tent, and Rose winced as she saw him limping from his leg injury. She went to tell him to sit down and rest, especially as their joint-apparition from Badenheim Castle had not been the smoothest in the world, but before she could open her mouth he had whirled around to face Selena.

'Right,' he snapped. 'What the _hell_ are you doing?'

She flinched - and then squared up, and the wave of tension that hit her, Matt, and Albus was enough to push them all to the sidelines as Selena and Scorpius faced off against one another. 'What, exactly, are you -'

'_You_ told us to go here!' Scorpius tossed his hands in the air. 'You said we should come to Badenheim in the first place, made up some pretence about a festival, and it just _happened_ to be where Prometheus Thane and his new buddies were digging around? That's _not_ a coincidence! How did you know?'

Selena's eyes flashed. 'Because I looked. Because I paid attention, while you were satisfied to sit at home or romp across the world and let him go _completely_ unchecked. All of you were!' Her gaze swept to Rose and Albus, before she reached for her bag, pulled out a folder, and tossed it on the table.

'This,' she said, 'is the official report from the International Convocation on the movements of Prometheus Thane, gathered from law enforcement bodies across the world and, yes, stolen from my mother's office. It details how Prometheus Thane is suspected in the abduction of a world-renowned expert on magical history and relics from Copenhagen, and how soon after the German law enforcement received information which placed him at Badenheim. Do you know how many people were sent after him? By Germany, by Britain, by anyone?'

They all said nothing, even if the answer was plain enough, and Selena pressed on. 'None. Not a _single_ Auror or Enforcer was sent after him. Because he travelled across borders, because for _some_ reason nobody in the Convocation can agree on the terms and powers of an international task force to hunt him, or because too many countries won't accept an Auror or Enforcer from a foreign government operating in their territory. So he abducted a man, and his assistant. He came here. And then he disappeared, and nobody did anything about it. This is the man who infected Hogwarts, and nobody is _doing anything_ about it!'

Scorpius hesitated, and Rose hoped he'd stand down - then his expression twisted. 'But you _lied_ to us. You tricked us. You dragged us out here to face danger because of him _again_ -'

'Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,' said Selena, hands on her hips. 'I knew you'd say no if I asked you in Britain to come hunt Prometheus Thane; I knew that if a lead on Prometheus Thane was in front of you, you wouldn't turn it down. And we _have_ a lead, so we can _get_ him -'

'What the hell is this?' demanded Scorpius. 'You run around for months like _nothing happened_, and now you want justice? Why? Must be because Phlegethon meant you missed out on the spring fashion season, because from the way you've been acting it sure as hell isn't about Methu-'

Rose winced, and wasn't surprised Scorpius didn't get through Methuselah's name before Selena slapped him. His head was whipped to the side and the sound of the impact was like a gunshot, casting them all into silence.

When Selena drew her hand back, her chest was heaving, eyes livid. 'You think you have the monopoly on grieving over Methuselah because you were the last one to see him alive,' she said to Scorpius. It wasn't a question. 'What did you think, Scorpius, that first morning after it was over? You thought about how he'd died for us all? I bet you did. What did you _do_ after you thought that?'

Scorpius had his hand to his cheek, obviously more stunned by the realisation of how wrong he'd been than by the blow itself. He didn't answer.

'Did you get up and go have breakfast? Did you go spend time with your friends? Did you go see your girlfriend? Did you cry for him and then did your life, in fact, go on?' She took a step forward, and her voice dropped to a harsh whisper that nevertheless filled the room. 'Mine didn't.

'_You_ never thought much of him until he died. You put up with him, sure, and sometimes found his eccentricities amusing, and appreciated his intelligence. But you didn't _hugely_ care for him. When he died, you were sad, but he didn't leave a hole in your life when he was gone. For you, it was more about that you lived while he died. That would have affected you if it were _anyone_.'

Her expression screwed up, her fists clenched, and Rose could see the raging battle inside her between fury and grief surging upwards. For the moment, fury still won. 'He wasn't _anyone_ to me. He was mine. I loved him. He got under my skin and in my bones and with him gone I am nothing, I _have_ nothing. Do you think the morning after I went on with my life? Do you think I did _anything_ for the first week but crawl into a hole and wait to _die_?'

Her voice shook at last, and now Scorpius took a step back, as if shoved by her surging grief. But still she didn't stop. 'And then I _didn't _die. It was like my heart had been ripped out and thrown into hell and _I - didn't - die_. I was still here. And he wasn't.' Her voice was tumbling and breaking now, but still she carried on. 'So what was I supposed to do? Rage at the world? Curl up in a corner and weep? I did that. I did that for weeks. And it changed _nothing_. But would that have satisfied you, Scorpius? Would that have been an _acceptable_ form of grief?'

Finally Scorpius spoke, jaw dropping. 'That's not what I -'

'I did what I did,' she said, tears by now streaming down her face, 'because it was that or _break_. I clung to the world where he had never mattered to me because if I could pretend, just for a moment, like I'd never known him, it was enough to get through the day. If I could be the person who never needed him, I could cope - because if I was the person who needed him, he's _not here_, he's _never_ going to be here!' Anger returned even as her voice choked, and she took a sharp step forward, jabbing her finger in Scorpius' chest. 'But you want me to be open about how he's gone and how that hurts me, _breaks_ me? This is it! Because there is only _one_ thing I can do, and that is make _every_ person responsible for his death pay. It won't bring him back but if their suffering soothes mine even for a _second_, then yes, I will lie to you all, I will trick you all, and I will chase Prometheus Thane to the ends of the fucking _world_ if I have to!'

The rage subsided as she stepped back, but the grief had not won over fully, and in a choking voice she said, 'I'm going to Paris. I don't care what you four do, I'm going after Thane.'

The silence which met her words was thick enough to chew on. Rose couldn't find anything to say which wouldn't sound _stupid_, and from the stunned look on Matt's face and the sombre one on Albus, they had nothing to put forwards either. It was Scorpius who broke the silence in the end, staring at the floor, voice grating.

'He asked me to tell you he'd be thinking of you,' he said, numb. 'Never cast a patronus before, did he. Not a corporeal one. He did then. Maybe 'cos he had to. But he was thinking of _you_ to do it.'

Selena gave a smile that was only grief. 'He wouldn't have been able to sacrifice himself if he couldn't cast that patronus in the first place.' It didn't sound like she was blaming herself - it sounded more like a curse against the world for its cruel jokes. Then she turned on her heel and stormed for the doorway out of the tent, blonde hair whipping behind her like a stream as she fled into grief.

Scorpius was still staring at the ground, and Rose did go to his side - but she only squeezed his hand briefly, before glancing to the boys, and heading in Selena's wake. Scorpius needed someone, but he had Albus. Selena needed someone, and she thought she had nobody.

She must have run the moment she was out of the tent, because she wasn't immediately in sight when Rose stepped into the clearing. She had to look around before she spotted a flash of gold in the trees to her left, and hurried in that direction.

She found the sound of crying before she found Selena. Not just weeping - this was the wracking sobs that rent the body as the soul poured out all of its anguish, and when Rose ducked into the tree-line she found not Selena, but a bundle of all of her pain collapsed into the undergrowth. Her hair had tumbled into her face and her hands clutched the ground as if she would drop off the Earth if she let go, and Rose knew she hadn't been heard because to Selena, right then, the world was nothing more than her pain.

For months she had borrowed stoicism against her grief. Now it was time to repay that, with interest.

Rose sank to her knees next to her friend and, without thinking, wrapped her arm around her to pull her closer. Selena went limp, collapsing into her arms and sobbed into her shoulder. Hands clutched at her like she was an anchor to something real and for a moment all Rose could do was sit there, despite everything astonished at the fierceness of the grief and the need.

'It'll be okay,' she said awkwardly, stroking her friend's hair.

'How?' Selena gasped between sobs, not lifting her head, slumped as if all strength was gone from her. 'He's gone, he's _gone_, he's not coming back and now it's all starting again, isn't it?'

This was, Rose thought, a very good rebuttal, and so for a moment she said nothing as Selena wept on.

'I never stopped missing him, I never stopped _needing_ him - every time someone walks into a room a part of me thinks it'll be him, and it's like I break _every time_. I dream, sometimes, that he's back, and then I wake up - and on those days I don't manage to do _anything_ but stay curled up in bed like a child -' For a moment Selena's voice degenerated to nothing but incoherent noises, and Rose tightened her hold on her. 'I miss him, I need him, and he's gone so I am nothing, I have nothing...'

Clarity surged in Rose, along with fierce defiance, and when she spoke there was firm honesty instead of the desperate, awkward need to reassure without knowing how. 'You are _not_ nothing, and you do not _have_ nothing - I've got you, I'm not _leaving_ you, you hear? We're in this together. Thane, or going home, or whatever. You're not alone. I won't let you be alone.'

The only answer to her promise was more sobbing as the months of self-control imploded in her friend, but Selena still clung to her like she was the bridge from death to life itself. Grief surged around them, pain ruled the day, but Selena let Rose pull her closer, and so as the two women clutched each other there lingered, around the edges of this dark day in these dark woods, the hint of the light of hope.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so we have some doozies in this chapter._

_Golems are a genuine part of Jewish folklore which have gone on to be depicted in a number of fantasy stories, from monsters in Dungeons & Dragons to their portrayal in the Discworld novels. With the globe-trotting nature of Starfall, I was keen to play around with other cultural notions of magic. As for why something in Jewish folklore is running around with Templar associations, I will get to that._

_Templars. Every good conspiracy has to have Templars in it, no? Considering the many implications that wizarding and Muggle societies used to be much more intertwined, I had wondered of the role of magic in such great old organisations, though I promise this isn__'t like those summer 'blockbuster' novels (or a certain Da Vinci-encoding tale) with Templars being BEHIND EVERYTHING. I will be playing with many facets of history and culture, and this is merely one of them._

_But we__'ll have more on __**them **__later._

_The Chalice of Emrys does not exist. It is a creation of my own devising, though in the same way that the Deathly Hallows are of JK__'s own devising, there are various real world notions which have been drawn upon for inspiration. I wanted something which was not too laden with extant expectations, which allowed me to play with it as a writer, and something which was not incongruous in the setting in the way that, say, the Holy Grail would be. But we'll get to that, too!_

_Regards and thanks to those who've reviewed so far, and I hope you had a Merry Christmas and a good New Year! Little hiatus of mine for the festive season should be over, anyway, so I hope to grant y'all a regular update schedule._

_There've been a few concerns raised on the subject of Matt - the notion of him being a 'spare' Methuselah, so it's best I clarify somewhat. It's true that he's filling a role which Methuselah did. If I am to indulge in some TV Tropes-esque analysis, in Ignite, Methuselah was the Smart Guy of the group, while Rose was Scorpius' Lancer, challenging him and driving him and presenting a counterpart to his method of doing things. Methuselah is gone, and Rose is considerably less... conflicted with Scorpius, the two work much better in-synch. So the roles of Lancer and Smart Guy are basically split between her and Matt - they have areas of intellect which the other does not (see this chapter - Matt knows the historical stuff, Rose is the one who figures out how to interface with the security system), and both of them challenge Scorpius in different ways._

_It's true he has a dynamic with Selena. That was almost inadvertent on my part but it was, I think, inevitable. Anyone standing next to Scorpius, Albus, and Rose is going to find themselves on the outside of the 'power trio' - Methuselah and Selena first spent time together because of it, and they just happened to find a rapport. Not to mention the fact that, last chapter, Selena needed someone she could manipulate if she was going to get over to Badenheim, and so she picked Matt - he would take her there, and he knew her the least well, was the most likely to fall for her tricks. The two of them will continue to develop their own dynamic, but I assure you that he is not suddenly going to become the replacement for Methuselah Jones._

_Nobody can replace Methuselah Jones._

_Thank you to all for the particular feedback (especially for Dutchgirl71 on the tea/coffee in Germany thing - the little touches are the hardest). I do try my best to get my research straight, as you should see next chapter, but sometimes it is hard. It's not exactly me grafting; I love history, and usually I find myself going on binges at Wikipedia to get inspiration. This cool thing happened in history - I can weave that into the story. So from there it's not too hard to use it as part of the background._

_Anyway, plot __should march on merrily from here!_


	8. To the Occasion

**To the Occasion**

'Why're we sat here like this?' said Selena, eyebrow arched, makeup reapplied to perfection, no sign about her that she'd collapsed into distress merely hours earlier as she looked around the tent's dining table.

'Because we're going to do this properly,' said Albus, the only one of the five stood up. 'Because this worked before, because I want us to understand what's going on, because I don't want secrets between us.' He looked down at the file before him, the one Selena had stolen from her mother's office, and drew a deep breath.

'Here's what we know,' he started. 'Prometheus Thane has been lying low since the end of Phlegethon. He's conducted mostly low-importance operations for the Council of Thorns, courier work and an attack in Brazil which turned out to be a diversion for a main hit on local government - before Acosta took charge, of course. He's assumed to be out of favour after losing the Resurrection Stone at Hogwarts, which botched their plans and brought about a cure sooner. Because of this lesser role, his priority as a target for law enforcement dropped.

'At the same time, there has been opposition from within the International Convocation to hunting him down, simply because there is as-yet no overall binding agreement for hunting enemy wizards across jurisdictions and Thane is a low enough priority that certain governments haven't wanted foreign officials with power in their back yards because of him. It's also possible that he's being protected by governments sympathetic to the Council of Thorns. Or, maybe, both.'

Albus reached down to pull a photograph from the folder and held it up, a picture of a grey-whiskered wizard. 'This is Professor Dresdner, renowned archaeologist. He was due to talk at a conference in Copenhagen last week, but neither he nor his assistant made any appearance. Thane was spotted in the city at a similar time and the Professor's disappearance was assumed to be connected. We know now, assuming Kerner was not mistaken or lying, that he did indeed abduct the Professor and his assistant, and brought them here, to Badenheim Castle.

'Badenheim Castle was a Thule Society holding in the war against Grindelwald, and a base for dark wizards gathering magical power and relics from across the country. Kerner claims that Thane took a large number of artifacts with him when he left, but also that he was after, and did not find, one in particular: the Chalice of Emrys. It had been assumed the Thule Society stole it from an ancient Templar repository in Paris when the city fell in the war; Kerner claimed it was never found. Thane, it would seem, has gone to Paris in search of it.

'He's also not alone. Kerner mentioned allies, amongst which was one Colonel Raskoph, a former follower of Grindelwald, so he's a hundred years old if he's a day. Matt reckons the rank would mean he also had some authority and influence amongst Grindelwald's Muggle allies, so we're talking one of the wizards who worked with and empowered them.'

Scorpius looked over at Matt. 'Not that I imagine Grindelwald cared a great deal for the Statute of Secrecy considering he wanted to _take over the world_, but wasn't that problematic _and_ hypocritical?'

Matt shrugged. 'Hypocritical, yes. Grindelwald wanted to control the magical world and bring the Muggle world under his heel. Historians believe he thought it would be efficient to have, essentially, loyal Muggles. They were waging their own war for their own reasons, so if he backed a side, they would dominate the war, conquer their own world - and then he could control the Muggle world through his puppets. Or, such was the plan; the Alliance of Wizards managed to counter the worst of Grindelwald's influences in the Muggle world, and so the Muggles fought their war _mostly_ without magical interference. As for the Statute... no, he didn't care. That said, the Muggles have often had stories about magic. There are stories even now that the Nazis had occult leanings or even powers. Because Grindelwald's influence was kept to a minimum, those remain nothing more than stories.' His expression pinched. 'This does, however, likely mean that this Raskoph was an adherent of a whole slew of unpleasant supremacist philosophies, if he managed to advance in the Muggle world as any kind of occult adviser. And if he's survived this long - in short, I think we're looking at a real nasty piece of work here.'

'While Prometheus Thane is so... pleasant,' mused Rose.

Scorpius' expression pinched. 'That's all you have to update us on about with Thane, right, Al?'

Albus gave a brief nod. 'That's Thane done, yes. Unless someone has anything to add?'

Nobody moved except Scorpius, who slouched to bury his face in his hands. 'I do,' he said, voice muffled, and dragged his hands across his face as he looked up. 'I didn't beat Prometheus Thane for the Resurrection Stone. He gave it to me.'

Heads whipped around to look at him in shock. Albus' jaw dropped. 'What?'

Scorpius drew an awkward breath. 'I chased him when my ambush started, got the drop on him - and he pinned me down, it wasn't even close, it's _laughable_ to think I could have beaten him. Then he gave me the Stone. He said that he - and implied others in the Council of Thorns - didn't want to see an entire wizarding generation in Britain wiped out, and that Phlegethon had got out of hand, become more dangerous more quickly. He implied the Council would have provided their own cure at some point - considering how they've gone after other governments, I bet they'd have used it to prop up their own lackey in power in Britain - but they didn't have enough time any more. He also said it didn't _matter_ too much - the point had been made, the world feared the Council. This was the same day the Council went public - I think they _did_ so then _because_ they were _choosing_ to let Phlegethon in Hogwarts come to an end.'

Selena arched an eyebrow. 'Why didn't you tell us?'

'Because he said he'd kill me, my friends, my family, if I let so much of a whiff of that get out,' said Scorpius simply. 'And you know what - you've not met him, so let me just say he's a scary-ass guy and I believe him.' He opened his hands. 'I don't know what it changes. He's still a nasty piece of work and he still let people die, even if he seemed inclined to _minimise_ the death. I just thought, now, it might be relevant.'

Matt fixed his gaze on him. 'So all those stories about how you kicked the tar out of an international super-mercenary -'

'Are bullshit, and that's why I told everyone the story of the _House Elves _kicking arse in that fight. Because _that_ story's true,' said Scorpius through gritted teeth. 'And that's beside the point. My point is that Thane is unpredictable, and while he works for the Council of Thorns, I don't think he's _wholly_ loyal to them. He has his own rules. That doesn't mean he's a friendly.'

Albus stared at Scorpius for a moment, then straightened and gave a stiff nod. 'So be it. That's Thane covered, anyway. I've asked if Matt could give us a bit more of a run-down on the Chalice of Emrys.'

Selena's eyebrow remained raised. 'Why?'

'Because I'm the only one of us who's taking History of Magic at NEWT. For about five minutes, I admit.' Matt shrugged. 'Which isn't that useful, either, because even by wizarding standards, the Chalice of Emrys is considered more myth than fact. There are a _lot_ of different stories about it, but there are two major schools of thought about its origins. The first is that it was crafted in the Levant - the area of modern-day Israel, Palestine, Syria, that portion of the Middle-East - at the beginning of the first millennium, and was later brought to Britain by wizards who were fleeing the reach of the Roman Empire, or possibly the collapse of the Roman Empire. The second theory simply says it was made _in_ Britain at around this time, in Wales to be precise. That's where accounts get a _little_ bit more helpful.

'It was certainly in the hands of Myrddin, who may or may not have been one of Merlin's earlier identities. The name "Emrys" either comes from him, _or_ it comes from Ambrosius Aurelianus, a Muggle war-leader from the 5th century who had wizarding allies and supporters and was a precursor to Arthur. It was lost around this time, recovered a century or two later by the Knights of the Round Table, and was then again assumed lost in the fall of Camelot.'

He rubbed his temples. 'Understand that historical records of this era are patchy, everything post-Roman and pre-Hogwarts is. Wizards in Britain were scattered, living in their own communities with their own ways of life. Camelot and Merlin were unifying, but Camelot's fall destroyed much of what had been written and known of the era. Until Hogwarts was built, and with it came a centralising focal point of wizarding society, not to mention the first centralised magical _library_ in a thousand years, wizarding history and lore in Britain descended to word of mouth -'

'Okay.' Albus lifted a hand, but smiled. 'We get the picture. Sources are sketchy. What's this about Templars?'

Matt sighed, slumping back. 'I can only give you conjecture there. The Knights Templar were a Muggle holy order of knights, created to protect pilgrims going to the Holy City of Jerusalem after the First Crusade - that was the Muggles of Europe declaring war on the Muggles of Jerusalem and the surrounding nations, in _broadly_ simple terms, to seize Jerusalem.' He grimaced at the prospect of condensing such matters into a one-sentence summary. 'Remember, this is the era where wizards and Muggles still worked together closely, even if wizards tended to act as advisers rather than taking a pro-active part themselves.'

Scorpius squinted. 'Why would wizards care about a holy order?'

It was Rose who answered that one. 'No reason they couldn't believe the same things as the Muggles. Culture was less divided back then. If Muggles could fight and kill one another over faith and belief, why couldn't wizards?'

'Exactly,' said Matt, grinning wryly. 'I'd have to do more reading to figure out where the Chalice of Emrys fits into the Templar magical history. They _did_ have holdings in Britain, and their wizard members _could_ have got their hands on it. That it would then come to Paris would make some sense, the Templars were powerful there but they also _died_ there in the early 14th century. They were accused of heresy, believed to be trumped-up charges by the French king and the Pope who were threatened by their immense power, and executed. Any of their belongings not found after their dissolution could have been hidden or lost.'

Albus wrinkled his nose. 'Fast forward to a hundred years ago, and the Thule Society at least believe the Chalice is there, go to Paris - and it's not there. Or, they don't find it. Though Thane believes it's worth looking for.'

'Okay,' said Scorpius. 'So, now we're treating this thing as being real, I know I've heard all the kids' stories, but what does it _do_?'

'Hard to say without dragging in the kids' stories,' admitted Matt. 'The legends all agree that drinking from the Chalice would cure and cleanse all wounds or illnesses afflicting the drinker. It could also, more dramatically, grant them a longer life of great health, possibly immortality. The most far-fetched stories say its waters could bring back the dead.'

Rose groaned. 'No prizes for why Thane wants the Chalice, then.' She shrugged as the others looked at her. 'It's a replacement for the Resurrection Stone. Remember it wasn't just a cure for Phlegethon, it was used in the creation of Phlegethon and the creation of that ritual. Phlegethon needs a breach made between the worlds of the living and the dead to flood the living with necromantic magic while they're still alive. I know it's clear the Council can still use Phlegethon, but what if they want it more powerful? Or what if they only have a limited source of the illness, and want another?'

'That would be logical,' Albus conceded.

'Thing is,' said Matt, grimacing, 'that last one - bringing back the dead - is only wild conjecture. I'd need to read more, we're dealing with my bookshelves as a source here, nothing special. Something like the Chalice of Emrys - its powers and its history will always be exaggerated. It's trickled into Muggle culture, as well - either it's inspired the stories of their Holy Grail, or it's been confused with any _real_ stories of their Holy Grail, if it exists. Getting the truth out of myth is going to be almost impossible without the Chalice.'

'Or,' said Rose, 'without an expert on archaeology who might have spent decades rifling through mythology and historical records to find the root of truth. Like Dresdner.'

'All right.' Albus' lips thinned. 'So we believe Prometheus Thane is working with a survivor of the Thule Society to hunt the Chalice of Emrys for the Council of Thorns, a relic which could be used to further empower Phlegethon. Agreed?'

Scorpius shrugged. 'As good a theory as any.'

'So here comes the kicker: What do we do about it?'

Rose sighed heavily. 'There's one question first. Do we think that this information might inspire the International Convocation to actually do something about Thane?'

'If there _are_ elements of the Convocation sympathetic to the Council of Thorns who're blocking efforts to hunt him, then no,' said Selena promptly. 'This isn't about what they know, it's about what they want, and the Council of Thorns are slithering into world governments. Until or unless my mother, or someone as capable as her, takes the role of Chairman to whip the Convocation into shape, I don't know if we can trust them, trust anyone to go after him properly.'

'Except for us.' Albus' brow furrowed as he looked at the gathered. 'I know this is sounding crazy. And only days ago I promised my dad that this was exactly what we _weren't _doing. But then we ran into this.' He looked at Selena, who had the good grace to look abashed. But not much.

Matt leaned forwards. 'I was hit by Phlegethon. I wasn't part of your Dream Team. But we're talking about going after a group of mercenaries and a veteran of Grindelwald's war, to try to beat them to a relic of ancient, immense power that might not even exist. Aren't they going to just _kill_ us?'

'Our alternative,' said Scorpius, 'is to just turn around and go home.'

Selena sighed. 'I know I said I'd do this without you all,' she said, voice thickening. 'But I know that's stupid. Or I'd have come to Badenheim on my own. We're calling this impossible and crazy - Hogwarts was impossible and crazy, and we got that done.'

'I'm in,' said Rose, chin tilting up half an inch, and she reached to take Selena's hand.

Scorpius looked at her with a flicker of surprise. 'Guess I'll go home and let my girlfriend fight mercs and Nazis - oh, wait, no. The other thing.' He gave a grimace of a smile. 'Prometheus Thane scares the crap out of me. Which means him getting what he _wants_ scares the crap out of me. I'm in.'

Matt tossed his hands in the air. 'Well, then. I'm not letting you go off without someone who knows a thing or two about what you're chasing, am I?'

Albus looked at him. 'You sure, Matt? You didn't wrangle with Thane -'

'But he infected me and almost killed me.' Matt's voice went flat. 'You've seen what happened to your sister, the time that took for recovery. There's only one reason I'm capable of fighting a forest troll and hitting a golem with a sword by now, and that's because I looked at what that virus did to my body and _fought_ it, _trained_ to be fit again, strong again. Else I'd still be getting regular Saint Mungo's check-ups. This is a guy who messed up my friends, but he also almost killed my sister and he almost killed _me_. I take a little offence to that.'

Rose lifted her gaze to Albus. 'What about you?'

'I can hardly leave you all to go without me,' said Albus. 'But there's one thing we're doing. Some of you might not like it, but I don't care: I'm getting in touch with my dad. I'm telling him what's going on.'

Rose grimaced. 'You think they were telling the truth?'

'You think he won't _drag us home by our ankles_?' said Selena.

'I think my dad knows that sometimes you can't trust the authorities to get the job done.' Albus' expression twisted. 'I think he knows that better than I do. I trust my dad to not go all over-protective on us. But that way he, and my aunt and uncle - they can help us. We're going to need _help_.'

'Maybe for the best,' said Matt. 'We're a bunch of witches and wizards barely of-age. We're deniable.'

'Hell, we can get killed by a super-merc and not even cause political havoc while we're about it!' said Scorpius, but he grinned and the smile took the bleakness from his words.

Albus returned the grin, albeit guardedly. 'We pack up. We get to Berlin. And then we take a Portkey to Paris. And then...' He drew a sharp breath. 'Then I'm going to talk to my father.'

* * *

Breaking camp was not a long process. The magic tent could contract sufficiently that so long as belongings and furniture were stowed away, collapsing it meant the rucksack contained both the tent itself and everything in it. It would be inaccessible on the move, so they removed whatever they'd want to hand for the journey and either carried it themselves, or slipped it into Rose's backpack, despite her muttering about not fishing for their belongings every five minutes. Within thirty minutes they stood in an empty campsite. Within an hour they were in the waiting lounge of the International Portkey Offices in Berlin, waiting for the public portkey that was scheduled for a transit to Paris that afternoon.

With a couple hours' wait, Albus said he'd go fetch them some food as Matt dug into his Book of Many Books, a still-limping Scorpius was instructed to rest and nap by Rose, and Selena pulled out a magazine and feigned disinterest in the world around her. So he was relieved by the company when Rose got up and joined him.

There wasn't much here. A waiting lounge with benches, a long corridor lined with small shops that sold little more than snacks and reading material to those waiting for their Portkey out, but Albus remembered passing one sandwich bar on the way through the day before, and that would have to do.

'You're tense,' said Rose once they were out of earshot of the others, tromping down the corridor.

'Of course I'm tense,' he said. 'We're embarking on a frankly crazy plan -'

'Which you enabled, Al. You could have let us run around like headless chickens fussing over what to do next. Instead you got us organised and informed before you made us commit to a decision, and you're trying to have us do this with a sensible plan and sensible backup.'

'We don't _really_ have a plan - we get to Paris, then what?'

'Then we look into the Templars, we see if there are any leads on Thane, and by talking to your dad and my mum we can get a whole load more resources to make _both_ goals easier,' said Rose calmly. 'You know this.'

'Sure,' said Albus, shrugging. 'I don't see why you're worried about me, then.'

'What would you have done,' said Rose, lips pursed, 'if we'd all said, "screw this, we're going home"?'

He shrugged. 'Gone home.'

'All right, I phrased that badly. You never said in there what _you_ want.'

'Neither did Scorpius.'

'You know he wants to get Thane,' said Rose. 'Just like I do.'

'And I don't?'

'I think you'd accept going home a lot more than we would. And I'm not criticising you for that, Al, it would be the sensible thing to do -'

He stopped and turned to her, shoulders tensing. 'And that's what I always do, isn't it. The sensible thing? Not the _right_ thing, or even the stupid-but-for-my-friends thing, or the reckless-but-might-just-work thing. Sensible. Always.'

Rose blinked, but a wry edge tugged at her expression. 'When I said you were tense, this is what I meant. What do you _want_ to do?'

'What I want isn't exactly the most important thing here -'

'But it is important. What's your gut saying?'

Albus scowled. 'My gut is dumb and unkind. The last time I listened to my _gut_ I broke a helpless man's arm, pretending it was for a greater purpose - but, a little bit? It was because I was pissed off and scared and it made me feel better.'

'Al, we've all made mistakes -'

'_Your_ mistakes meant you upset Scorpius and Hector. _My_ mistakes would constitute torture, and a messed-up plan which almost got you killed.'

'Is that why you're going along with what everyone else wants?' challenged Rose, taking a step forward. 'Is that why you're right now... you're _shaping_ us, Al, you're letting us lead the way, you're just trying to make sure we do it sensibly.'

'What's wrong with that? What's wrong with going with what my friends want, just making sure it's done in a way which doesn't get them killed?'

'Because your instincts are actually pretty good, Al! And even if they weren't, you're not here to be our, our... babysitter!' She set her hands on her hips. 'When you told us to go after Downing, we agreed and followed you because we believed in you. I did it then and I would do it again. It went wrong, but _I would do it again_. Now you're second-guessing yourself all the time.'

'I'm trying to be responsible here -'

'Bloody hell, Albus, when are you going to step out from your dad's shadow?' Rose exclaimed this with such frustration it was obvious the words had escaped without her meaning to let them, but once they'd spilt into the open she scowled and accepted them.

He returned the scowl. 'I could say that about you and your mother -'

'No, because I know I'm like Mum in a lot of ways, and _not_ like her in a lot of ways. It's funny, I have two things to thank Methuselah for - sacrificing his life, and being _smarter_ than me.' Rose sighed. 'Mum was the smartest witch of her generation. Since it became obvious I was about as bright, everyone expected me to be the same. Until Jones, the brilliant Jones, the guy I could never beat - except for when I did, and then _you_ beat me. And you know what? _It got me off the hook._

'I can enjoy what I like, do what I like, _be_ who I want, because nobody's expecting me to be my mother. It's not that I've failed. I'm still achieving everything I want to achieve. It's that the expectations were stripped away. You, on the other hand...' She gave him a sad smile. 'We talked about this before. James dealt with this by embracing the expectations. You... in a crisis, you try to be Harry. Except you're not Harry, and that's _fine_, so instead you're over-thinking.'

'I have done my best...'

'And you were at your best when you came up with a ballsy but brilliant plan without which Phlegethon might still be raging. So I almost died. You know what, Al?' She planted a finger in his chest, and though it was a pointed gesture her touch was gentle, affectionate. 'You and I both know it would have been worth it. Is that what bothers you so much?'

Albus hesitated. 'Methuselah died, and while it was horrible, it was the right thing to do -'

'Methuselah chose to do that. I didn't choose to get sliced in the gut. I chose to accept the risk, sure. But it's not the same. You flipped at Downing because you wanted to make sure that, if I died, my sacrifice was worth it. And now you hate the idea that you could have chosen to sacrifice me to save everyone else.'

He bristled. 'That's not what my decision was -'

'You'd have been right. And we both know it. And you hate that.' Rose sighed. 'It's what your instincts tell you was right, and you hate it, so you distrust your instincts.'

'I don't see how me taking charge back there shows I'm ignoring my instincts -'

'You didn't take charge.' She met his gaze flatly. 'It looked like you did, and the others think you did, because they're used to you doing it, and Matt doesn't know better. You didn't lead us. You _organised_ us.'

'What's the difference?'

'All you did was take our wishes and turn them into a plan. Which is great, don't get me wrong. But, again, you were at your best when you did something brilliant and daring. We'll need you at your best to fight Thane. You need to cut loose.'

Albus shrugged. 'What does that even _mean_ in real terms?'

'What do you want?'

He squinted. 'What?'

'What do you want to do? And don't say "help your friends" because you're not our enabler or our babysitter, _stop_ pretending like you are because you're too scared of your own judgement.'

There was a fervour in Rose's voice which made him blink, but he could see the glint of concern in her eyes which took out the sting, and Albus' expression creased. 'All right. It just sounds stupid.'

'I bet it doesn't, but I'm listening.'

'Our parents fought Voldemort when they were our age - but that doesn't sound irresponsible because they didn't have a choice. Voldemort was going to gun for Dad one way or another, and your parents stood by him - because it was the decent thing to do, but the alternative was abandoning their mate. Just like we didn't have a choice in Hogwarts, they didn't have a choice back then. They could choose _how_ to face danger - but danger was coming. Right now, _we_ could go home and try to, I don't know, make sure someone professional goes after Thane.' He spoke in a low, calm voice, trying to not sound like he was leaning one way or another.

'There are arguments against that,' said Rose, 'like how long it takes before the trail goes cold. But we could do it. Do you want to do that?'

'No,' said Albus, and the confession was like something burst in his chest - and with that one word, the rest came tumbling. 'I want to stop Thane, and I want to finish what we started. Ourselves. Other people have screwed it up already. The only way to guarantee it gets done the way I want to see it done... is to do it myself. And that's _stupid_, isn't it? We're seventeen.'

'It's risky, yes,' said Rose. 'That doesn't mean your reasons are dumb.'

'This _isn't _what our parents did. Evil knocked on their door, and they answered. We're looking at danger in the distance and we're riding out to meet it. Last time I did that, you nearly died. And yet, I'm _still_ saddling up.'

She gave a tight smile. 'You know we'll all feel better, yourself included, then, if you're riding at the front.'

He looked away. 'I don't want to screw up again, Rosie. You getting hurt. _Me_ losing control like I did. Scorp's got better instincts... Matt's not as worn-down... you're _smarter_ than me...!'

'And yet, if the impossible needs doing, it's on your say-so we'd do it, Al. You're scared of screwing up again? Then... don't screw up.'

Albus looked back at her, frowning. 'Great advice -'

'No, I mean it,' said Rose. 'Hold to what happened. Remember what you did wrong. And don't do it again. We're going to have tough decisions ahead of us, and you've shouldered more than most. Cut loose, Al. We're all of us choosing to do this. There are no innocent lives we're responsible for. This isn't Hogwarts and it's not, like you said, what our parents did.'

'No,' he sighed. 'You're right. This time, we're going to poke the sleeping bear, for no reason other than that someone's got to do it, and we want it to be _us_. And you're saying you'd all do this repeatedly on my say-so?'

'What can I say?' Rose gave a lopsided smile. 'We're willing. That doesn't mean we're bright.'

Albus smiled back, then shook his head and turned for the corridor again, starting in the direction of the sandwich bar. 'When did you get inside my head, Rosie?'

'I was always there,' she said, relaxing as she fell into step next to him. 'You just don't usually need me to sort things out for you.'

He put a hand on her shoulder. 'I missed you. All these years. You know that?'

She took his hand, and though her smile was tinged with apprehension, it was still warm, genuine. 'No need to fuss about the past, Al. We're here, now. And we're in this together. 'til the end.'

Albus nodded, and his smile brightened to something softer, more sincere. 'Not that I want... I mean, I'm already at the point of being able to paint a blurry watercolour and that's more than I need, really - I just mean, you and Scorp. You're okay?'

Her cheeks coloured, and she brushed a lock of hair from her face. 'I think so, yeah. It's, um, going to be odd. To have this freedom again. What, you two don't talk?'

'There are conversations guys have about girls,' said Albus diplomatically, 'and then there are conversations guys _don't_ have when the girl's family. But I am, you know, not just glad you two can be around each other, but, getting on. I was worried, not going to lie.'

'That we actually hated each other and were just crazy and desperate at Hogwarts?' She smirked. 'No. I guess you owe me an "I told you so," when it comes to Scorpius.'

He nodded, then said, awkwardly, 'And if you ever need me to sod off, just, you know, say. I know you guys want your privacy out here, and I _swear_ I wouldn't have stomped in this morning if -'

'Oh, that.' She coloured more. 'No, that was - I mean, we were just talking. It's fine, Al. It's fine. Everything's fine.'

Albus nodded, then grinned toothily to break the moment. 'Good. Because we might be about to hunt an international super-mercenary, but we've got to make sure our love lives are in order, right?'

* * *

_A/N: Merlin is an oddity in the Potter canon - he__'s implied to be older than the Founders by overshadowing them culturally, and yet sources say he attended Hogwarts, which almost certainly came __**after **__any Court of Arthur which might have existed in the Potter continuity. It__'s vague and unhelpful, and so I tend to work under this theory that Merlin was a centuries-old dude who operated under many different masks and names and identities, some of which were not known until decades, centuries later. So he could have popped up pre-Arthur, popped up in Arthur's court, popped up at Hogwarts, and at the time people didn't know he was the same, awesome wizard. _

_I wanted to explain this specifically because the Chalice of Emrys and the Templar lore do __**not **__revolve around Merlin. Myrddin Wyllt, also known as Myrddin Emrys, is a __'real' figure of Welsh mythology, and considered to be one of the "proto-myths" for the stories of Merlin (and if you read the myths there's a reason children don't get told __**his **__story). Was he a great old wizard in his own right? Was he Merlin in an earlier __'mask'? I'm happy to leave this one ambiguous. For those wondering, Ambrosius Aurelianus was an historical war leader in Britain in the 5th century. He is not considered to be "one of those guys who could have been Arthur", but likely a precursor to any such a dude. His name in Welsh was Emrys Wledig._

_As you can see, this lends ambiguity to the origins of the Chalice of Emrys. Many of you will also spot the similarities with the tales of the Holy Grail, both in its possible origins in the Levant and then its rather contradictory close ties to British mythology a few hundred years later. As I said last chapter, JK has an honourable tendency to play around with history and usually doesn__'t refer __**directly **__to myth; I would consider the Chalice of Emrys to be something which __**could **__conceivably be what the Muggles have misinterpreted as the Holy Grail - or something else entirely._

_You guys can tell I never finished my history degree, right?_

_On another note, you may catch me using the term __'the Levant' as a catch-all for the region of Israel, Palestine, Syria, and so forth - the city of Jerusalem, the old Crusader States, the many names the region and portions of it have been known by. I don't want to get bogged down in specific places when I'm talking about vague, made-up myth - and when talking about the region sweepingly I want a term which isn't laden with issues of what to call it. If Matt (it'll probably be Matt) wants to talk about somewhere specific, probably in historical terms, he'll do that. As a sweeping reference, the Levant seems safest. I could call it Israel. I could call it Palestine. I could call it Outremar! I don't want to use the terms inter-changeably. The Levant it is. Please call me on this if it's problematic._

_Okay, sorry, this is a beast of an author__'s note. I said I'd have these addenda to illuminate how much was history, how much was made up, etc. So there you go! Peace out._


	9. City of Light

**City of Light**

'First things first,' said Albus as they stepped through the doors of Paris' Magical Assembly, the local centre of government and where the Portkey Offices had been housed. 'We need to find somewhere to stay.'

Selena turned around and backed off, squinting up at the tall marble building they'd emerged from, with its fine masonry work and gleaming columns. Then she almost fell down the tall steps that led to the streets before them. 'First things first. We're. In. _Paris_.'

Albus' expression pinched. 'We're not going shopping -'

'I'm not saying we go shopping, I'm saying we take a moment to go, _oh, my God_, we're in _Paris_.' Selena swept around the group to seize Rose's arm in an iron hold. 'Though, yes, we're totally going shopping. Oh, oh, do you still have those Madam Malkin's vouchers from Christmas? The Paris branch is even _larger_...'

'My leg hurts,' said Scorpius. 'So let's gush about clothes and culture later, and find the magic district.'

'We're in it,' said Matt, leafing through his book. 'We're _on_ the Ile des Roues already. So we won't have to go far.'

Albus' lips moved wordlessly for a moment. 'Isle of Wheels?'

'This island is one of the oldest magical communities in Europe; it was inhabited back when the Gauls venerated Taranis who was represented by an eight-spoked wheel, considered to also be symbolic of his associations with the sun -'

'Do we want a history lesson,' said Scorpius, 'or do we want to find somewhere to stay?'

Rose looked apologetic as she rifled through her bag for one of her guide books, having thoughtfully placed the one for Paris near the top. 'I highlighted a few hostels...'

'Nope,' said Scorpius. 'We're not staying in those.'

Albus' brow furrowed. 'Why not?'

'Two reasons. One is that they're _manky_. The second one, which you will actually be convinced by, is that this has us bunking in huge rooms with no privacy. We need a proper hotel.' Scorpius' eyes swept up and down the main road of the Ile des Roues for the first time.

If he'd known more about Parisian history, he might have guessed he was in the magical region before being told. The buildings were old relics from the Middle Ages, leaning together until they reached the main road. It was wide and cobbled, though this was of little issue as only pedestrians roamed such a magical district. As evening drew on the street was cast in a pale, golden glow, and pinpricks of lights could be picked up from the darker alleyways that broke off the main road, soon to bring the city shining to life at night.

It was unsurprising that plenty of the buildings so near to the centre of government and transportation were hotels. Scorpius waved a languid hand at one halfway down the road, and went limping down the steps. 'That one. I want that one.'

Albus goggled as he scurried after him. 'We're not going to get a hotel on the main road, Scorp, we can't afford it -'

'Yes, we can. I'm paying.' He gestured imperiously. 'I never wanted to stay in a manky hostel anyway, I was just going to hold off on this row until we were here. And now we're hunting a mad-man across Europe. Either way, it's no longer the time for you to get fussy about funding this with your pocket money. I have an inheritance. We're spending it.'

'We can't let you blow all your money -'

'I assure you,' he drawled, 'it's going to take more than a globe-trotting trip to drain the coffers. We're staying here.' His nose wrinkled. 'And how can they hide a whole island from the Muggles?'

'I thought you didn't want a history lesson?' said Matt as he and the others jogged to catch up.

'You've got as long as it takes us to get to the hotel.'

Matt sighed. 'So glad I can help. The short answer is, "magic". The longer answer is that the island's been hidden for centuries from sight. The Muggles don't notice it's gone because several islands of the Seine have been merged together, by drift and by building up land-bridges. Officially, the Ile des Roues doesn't exist any more, and is simply a part of theIle Saint-Louis nearby.'

'See, that was short and sweet,' said Scorpius, wagging a finger. 'You're getting better at giving me information in bite-sized chunks so I don't give up caring before you're done.'

Matt scowled. 'I have a sword, still, you know.'

'Yeah, about that, you know I just need to say _one_ spell and then you _don't _have a sword - it might be cool and it might have beaten up a golem, but it's pretty archaic for you to lug it around -'

'We're going after Templar holdings,' said Rose, voice light. 'The Templars used the golems as long-lived protectors. We might run into more of them.'

'What even _is _a golem?' asked Selena. 'I mean, I know it's a magic construct, but... how?'

'I don't know,' said Matt. 'I'll have to do some reading.'

'Yes,' sighed Scorpius as they reached the door to the hotel. 'Heaven forfend we don't hit the books.'

Albus planted his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. 'Remember, we can stay somewhere nice, but let's not get ridiculous, shall we? Like, we don't need a room _each_.'

Scorpius scoffed. 'I'm never ridiculous when it comes to nice things.'

He got them a suite.

'It's not a room each,' Scorpius pointed out when they were finally up there, waving a hand about the large, well-lit main room, tastefully decorated in an art deco style, all red cushions and mahogany floors and wall-panels, the view from the window showing the sprawling, spilling shape of the Ile des Roues and even Muggle Paris beyond. 'There are only three bedrooms. But we can talk here, meet here, plan here.'

'This is awesome,' said Selena as she padded to the centre of the room, beaming.

'Let's remember we're not here to mess around,' said Rose, frowning at Scorpius.

'Of course not. But we're going to have enough crappy things happen. _Have_ had enough crappy things happen. We might as well have some _fun_ while we can,' he said.

She gave a flicker of a smile. 'Speaking of crappy things,' Rose said, and grew stern again, 'you, bedroom, now.'

Scorpius worked his jaw wordlessly, Selena and Albus stopped and squinted at Rose, and Matt tossed his hands in the air. 'I'm going to go unpack,' he said. 'I'm sure I put some bleach in my bag somewhere. If you hear me screaming, it's just me pouring it in my ears.'

'I _mean_,' said Rose, colouring, 'that you took a nasty injury this morning which we _still_ haven't properly looked at, and so you're going to lie down and I'm going to see to it!'

'See to it,' echoed Selena, now going to drape herself languidly across one of the couches. 'I'm _sure_ he'll feel better once you're done.'

Rose raised an aggravated finger. 'You can all sod off.' She pointed at the door and glared at Scorpius. 'Go. Now.'

'I'd just like to point out,' he said, wilting, 'that I didn't make a _single_ joke and you're about to take your frustrations out on me!'

'Go!'

Scorpius scurried as best as a limping man could scurry to the nearest bedroom, hearing Albus mutter, 'This is more than I ever wanted to know about them and their _frustrations_,' in their wake.

Rose closed the bedroom door behind them and slumped against it, eyes shut. 'That was not my most eloquent moment ever.'

Scorpius gave her a mock-pout. '"Speaking of crappy things"?'

'Sit _down_.' She pointed to the opulent bed that sat in the centre of the opulent room. 'I'll make up for it later.'

His expression shifted for a smirk as he slumped, with some relief, onto the foot of the bed. 'Why not make up for it now?'

'Because you're injured, and I only gave that a cursory look-over in Badenheim, and I want to make sure you're okay, so that's _all_ I'm going to do. Now, take off your trousers.'

'I'm getting mixed signals here -'

'Off! Or I'll get Matt in here to sort you out instead.'

The smirk died. 'That's _cheating_.' But he still obliged, with a good degree of awkwardness, and so had to give her a lopsided glance as he unbuttoned his jeans. 'You know, this isn't what I had in mind when I thought of you charming me out of my clothes -'

'You realise this isn't making this _less_ awkward,' said Rose flatly. 'I'm the best of us at healing magic. It won't take long. Stop being so fussy, and let me see the wound.'

Scorpius sighed, dropped his trousers, and slumped on the bed. She came to sit down next to him, gaze going with rather more calm than he felt to the livid flesh along his left thigh. The cut was clean now, though the skin still split, and as she rested her fingertips there gently, he gave a small hiss of pain.

'Sorry,' she muttered, though this at least had made the moment entirely about healing, and she wafted her wand over the cut. 'It's not serious. I was worried there might have been some magic on the blade, but it looks like there wasn't. I should have seen to this in Badenheim...'

'We were busy, I didn't want to disturb you -'

'You should have _said_,' Rose pressed, frustrated in that way he knew meant she was irritated at herself. She didn't stop her work, the wand sending a cooling sensation through his leg as she cast her spells. 'Not limped around on it for hours -'

'I apparated to Berlin, I sat down on a bench for an hour, and we have walked probably less than a few hundred metres since leaving Badenheim. We had to make the portkey here today. You had to pack. It wasn't a big deal,' he said firmly, though the cooling sense was turning pleasantly warm and now beginning to spread across his body, making it harder to be filled with conviction.

'It could have been,' she muttered, brow knitting as she lowered her wand. The skin where his wound had been was now smooth, new, pink, and she got to her feet in a sudden, awkward move. 'Well. You can get dressed now.'

He staggered upright and, rather groggy, pulled his jeans back up. 'That feels... better. Thanks.'

'Just practice _dodging_ next time, hm?'

Scorpius reached out to grab her hand. 'I'm careful. I'm always careful. And I'm okay.'

'Except we're going to do this a lot more. This won't be the last time one of us gets hurt -'

'And it's not the first time, and we've pulled through now, and we'll pull through again. Trust me.'

Rose sighed. 'I do. We just both know we're not untouchable, and we're lunging into danger...'

'We're not in danger now. Let's make the most of it.' He gave her hand an insistent tug which pulled her a step towards him, allowing him to grab her waist and draw her against him in a sudden move. His balance wasn't as good as he'd thought, though, and she crashed into him with a small noise of protest to send him tumbling onto his back on the bed, dragging her down with him.

'Not what I intended,' Scorpius said, but settled for wrapping his arm around her to stop any possible escape. 'But I'll manage.' His free hand came up to push the tangle of hair from her face, and he tugged her down for a kiss.

She softened against him, the embrace lingering, melting, but within a few moments was grinning through the kiss, and she pulled back, eyes shining. 'I'd tell you to take it easy and get some rest,' Rose whispered. 'But you're going to be asleep in the next minute anyway...'

Scorpius blinked as he did, indeed, feel a muggy sensation creeping on. '...did you sedate me?'

'The most efficient healing spells draw on _your_ energy to patch up the wounds. We've got time for you to rest. So I used one of those spells.' Her next kiss was light, gentle, and she slid from his arms while he was unable to offer more than a weak protest. 'Sleep. You need it.'

He pawed weakly at the air, but she wasn't there any more. 'M'all right,' he slurred.

'Good,' said Rose, her voice coming from the door as his eyelids drooped shut despite his instructions. 'Then you'll feel better for some rest.'

And before he could summon even the words for a protest, he'd slipped off to blissful, black oblivion.

* * *

'Is this going to be noisy?' said Rose, eyeballing the boys as they flicked their wands to push the furniture against the walls. She stepped away from a skidding coffee table and hopped up the steps to join Selena on the futon by the bay window, where they could sit with an elevated view of the madness. 'Scorpius needs _rest, _and crashing around won't help.'

'These walls are thick. We're putting up charms. It'll be fine,' said Albus, lifting a hand.

'I'm more worried if you're going to _break_ something.' Selena peered around the room. 'We're in a fancy hotel suite. You don't _spar_. And not with _swords_.'

Matt walked over to where he'd set the sword down, and picked it up. 'Technically, with just the one sword.'

'Oh. Well. That makes breaking things _fine_.'

'She has a point,' said Rose. 'Do you need to do this here?'

'Where else are we going to do it?' said Albus. 'It's important.'

'I don't disagree that practicing's important - and anyway, what's to stop _you_ getting your head chopped right off?' squeaked Rose, flapping her hands.

'I've put a charm on the blade,' said Matt, and extended the sword towards her in case she wanted to check it. She really didn't. It wouldn't help. 'It'll bounce off an inch away. Might be like smacking him with a bat, but no worse than a Stun.'

'Anyway,' said Albus, with a firm smirk. 'He won't hit me.'

'Can't this _wait_?'

'Matt wants to lug around a relic from a Thule Society repository. I think it's a waste of time. Best we put this to the test.'

Matt made a face. 'I'm not saying I want to go toe-to-toe with Prometheus Thane with a bloody sword. I'm saying that it was useful in Badenheim, as has been pointed out, if we're chasing Templar holdings, there might be more golems. Besides. I still have my wand. The sword might be useful.'

'All right, then.' Albus walked to an open space, then straightened and adopted a classic duelling stance, left arm behind his back to keep his posture secure and the hand out of the way, right arm low before him, wand-tip pointed down. 'Prove it.'

Selena leaned over to Rose. 'This should be good, right?' she whispered. 'I mean, Doyle _was_ captain of the duelling club...'

'Oh, he was. And he's good. But nobody's Albus.'

Matt was deciding which stance to take, and opted for holding his wand in his left hand, the sword in his right, and leading with that side. This took some shuffling of feet until Albus gave a genuine smile and said, 'In your own time, mate,' which had Matt, with some irritation, setting his feet and giving a stern nod.

'Rose,' said Albus, eyes locked on Matt, completely still. 'Give us a count.'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Three, two, one. You may begin.'

The last word was barely past her lips - but it was - before Albus' wand swished with the most conservative of movements. Albus didn't even speak, and then the sword was flying from Matt's hand at a Disarming Charm, soaring - before Selena's wand shot out, and it floated to the ground instead of embedding in a wall.

'This,' said Selena, 'is why I don't let boys near nice things.'

Albus lifted a hand as Matt went to move, and both stopped. 'That's enough. We can do a straight wand-fight any time. I wanted to see the sword.'

Matt scowled. 'I'm still figuring it out. Let's go again.'

'It might be magic,' Albus said, 'but that's no use if you can't _hold_ it.'

'Then maybe I can _practice_,' said Matt. 'There's something I want to try. We go again.' His wand shot out to the side and the sword went flying to his hand, though Rose had a brief vision of Matt impaling himself instead.

'Can we have the swords fly less? I'd feel better if there were fewer flying swords,' she said, voice tense.

'Just give us another countdown, please,' said Albus, gaze again locking on Matt, who still had the sword in his right hand, but had shifted to lead with the wand this time. Rose groaned, but did as she was bidden, and then the rematch was on.

Albus did nothing this time, simply stood and watched Matt, and from months of studying him fight, Rose knew what was up. He'd wanted to make a point the first time, highlighting the inefficiency of a weapon like the sword, which was why he'd cast a Disarming Charm so soon. This time, not only did he know such a tactic would be expected, but he wanted to properly test the situation.

Matt didn't cast right away, either, but he was the first one to move - one step forward, two steps forward, then Albus _did_ lash out with a Stun which Matt caught with a Shield charm, clumsy when cast with his left hand but still doing the job, and Matt broke into a run.

There was a flash of sparks from Albus' wand which Rose knew was a Disarming Charm, but again, Matt caught it on a Shield. Another flash from Albus, and this one broke through Matt's defences to crack him on the shoulder, but the Stun was cast swiftly enough to only make him stumble, then the two of them were upon each other. Matt swung the sword in a heavy, overhead blow that Albus couldn't jerk away from, so his wand came up and the air around him rippled with the barrier of a Shield charm.

When the sword hit the Shield, there was the crash of magical sparks - then Albus' spell collapsed. The blade kept slicing through the air, and Rose's heart leapt into her throat when it came down at Albus - but, as predicted, the impact was no worse than that of a hefty Stun as it thudded into his shoulder, one which was enough to knock him off his feet, hitting the floor with a thump.

He lay there for a moment, chest heaving from exertion, while Matt stared at the sword with some astonishment. Then he remember himself, sheathing his wand and extending a hand to help Albus up.

'So,' said Albus ruefully, rubbing his back. 'That worked.'

'All sorts of tactical weaknesses,' said Matt, 'not least of which is that I need to be better at either casting or swinging with my left hand.'

'You had to focus entirely on defensive just to close the distance. It's something of an all-or-nothing gambit.'

'But it's something most enemies won't be trained to deal with. I'm best keeping it in reserve for if a fight starts to go sour, than using it as my primary tactic.'

'Why would the Templars even _have_ a magic sword?' Albus asked, brow furrowed.

'I'm still figuring that out,' Matt admitted. 'This isn't something I know a huge deal about. The question is if it was wielded by wizard members of the Order, as a legitimate weapon or mostly ceremonial, or if it was wielded by Muggle knights to give them a fighting chance if they came up against magic.' He shrugged. 'We're talking of a time of far more interaction between the magical and the non-magical; being armed for both worlds would only be logical...'

'Oh, no,' said Selena as Albus and Matt descended into analysis of the relative strengths and weaknesses of their techniques. 'Boys with their toys.'

'I suppose we're going to have to get used to these toys, and these conversations, and this training if we're going after Thane,' Rose said.

'You say that like you haven't been keeping up with training since Hogwarts.'

'I have. It's just different when we _know_ we're going to be fighting for our lives, as opposed to taking self-defence more seriously because of the _possibility_ of danger.'

'What _have _you even been practising, anyway?'

'This and that.' Rose looked down to the lower levels at the boys. 'Are you two going to tidy up after yourselves?'

Albus and Matt looked around, brows furrowed. 'But we were going to try a few more techniques...'

'Nope. Dinner. We're getting room service. But only _after_ you've put everything back the way it was.'

Albus squinted at her. 'Every day you become more and more like your mother.'

'If I did, then you'd be doing what I say,' said Rose, and wasn't sure if it was a victory that the two of them, grumbling, started putting the furniture in place. The sweep of a wand could push everything to one side. The sweep of a wand would _not_ remember where everything had originally been.

Selena smirked. 'They know their place,' she said, though Rose watched the smile carefully. Selena looked tired and drained, and though the smirk held an artificial edge, she seemed more self-mocking than as tense as she had looked for the last few days - weeks. Months.

It was a delicate balance, and not one Rose wanted to shift, but before she could figure what to say, Selena had looked at her, gaze equally assessing, and dropped her voice to be unheard by the boys under the sound of their clattering. 'You haven't unpacked yet.'

'No?'

'Doyle is bunking with Albus. Scorpius needs his rest, so he's in his own room. And _I've _unpacked in the last room.' Selena didn't bother being subtle, and the penny finally dropped.

'Oh.'

'You mean that wasn't planned? Weasley, again I over-estimate you.'

'Scorpius is going to hopefully sleep through the night. So I'll share with you.'

'Mm-hm. You do know that none of us _care_, right?' Her gaze flickered to Matt, and Rose tried to not think about that.

'_I_ care. Now's not exactly been an ideal time for a conversation.'

'You don't need to hold a committee, Weasley. Or bribe him. It'll pretty much take care of itself if you show up at his door.' Something shifted in Selena's gaze, but then Matt and Albus finished their furniture arranging, and her eyes snapped over to them. 'No, no!' she said, voice raising, the artfully controlled Selena Rourke again. 'That coffee table was _not_ there...'

Rose suppressed a worried smile as she watched Selena give imperious commands to the two boys, and her gaze lingered, last of all, on Albus.

_Thank God for you, Al,_ she mused. _I need one relationship here which isn't going to give me a panicking fit..._

* * *

Scorpius woke to sunlight creeping through the bedroom window, and for a moment he thought he was in his bed back at Malfoy Manor, the place he still struggled to not call "home" by instinct. With the assumption came the familiar tightening of his chest, the pricking of his ears to listen for the tell-tale signs of whether it was safe to be in the house...

...and instead of shouting or footsteps he got the hustle and bustle of a city beyond the walls, and reality came rushing back.

He sat up, muscles twinging with the ache of recent exertion, but it took him a moment to remember his leg injury, for movement came with no pain. He clambered to his feet without issue, and grabbed his pocket watch. Nine o' clock.

Scorpius squinted at the window. It was light out there. Had he slept for coming up on eighteen hours? It certainly didn't feel like he'd slept for less than six.

Maybe he _had _needed time to recover from the fight after all.

He shrugged into one of the hotel dressing gowns and slumped into the main room to find it empty and quiet, until a flicker of movement caught his eye and he spotted Selena reclined on the futon by the windows, a magazine in hand. He squinted at her. 'Morning?'

'It is,' she said, turning a page. 'How're you feeling?' She didn't look at him.

'I slept like the dead.' He ran a hand through dishevelled hair and slouched over. 'Where is everyone?'

'Out. We're waiting on word back from Rose and Albus' parents, but they've all decided to go look at a place where a bunch of Muggles died seven hundred years ago like it'll tell us something.' Her voice was clipped, tense, and she gave a languid gesture for the table before her. 'I had room service bring up breakfast.'

Scorpius realised he was very hungry at about the same time he realised breakfast was going to include a lot less fried food and a lot more pastries and bread than was ideal. Still, he moved to the armchair across from her, and reached for the platters of food which the others had clearly also helped themselves to. 'Thanks,' he said quietly.

'Don't thank me,' said Selena. 'You're paying for it.' She turned another page.

Awkward, he decided to not complain about the lack of hot food, and instead tucked into a croissant. 'Mmf.' He swallowed. 'That's actually really good.'

'Freshly baked at the boulangerie across the road this very morning,' said Selena like she was reeling something off. 'There's tea. And coffee. Apparently you should rest and eat, or your leg might drop off.' Finally she looked up and arched an eyebrow at him. 'You're feeling better?'

He had another face-full of croissant, and so chewed quickly. 'Mmf,' he said again. 'Yeah. Rose fixed me right up.'

'I bet she did.'

Scorpius cringed. 'I'm sorry.'

Selena tossed the magazine to one side. 'What for?'

'For - for what I said yesterday. For saying you didn't care about Methuselah. That was stupid of me.'

Her eyes flashed, but only for a moment, and her next sigh was softer. '...it's what I wanted you to think. It's what I wanted _me_ to think.'

Scorpius put down the croissant. Now was not the time to talk with a full mouth. 'Did it help?'

Selena looked away, gaze going to the windows, to the hustle and bustle of the busy Parisian street beyond. 'No. Nothing helped. I could just pretend it did.' She hesitated. 'I shouldn't have put down what you went through. It must have been hard, to... to watch him go.'

He stared at his hands. 'I was going to go. He stopped me - he _tied me up_, he... he said it had to be him, he had to be the one to go change the ritual. That he was the best at that.'

Her eyes slammed shut for a heartbeat, and she visibly struggled to get her mask of control back in place. 'He was the best at that,' she breathed.

'I know he and I weren't that close,' said Scorpius stiffly. 'I know his death hasn't left this… this gulf in my life. That my life goes on without him. And I'm sorry. I wish...' His voice trailed off as he realised there were too many things to wish for, and not a thing that wishing could do. He sighed, and just said, 'I wish.'

'I tried to be the old me,' said Selena, voice hollow as she stared into the street. 'The one who didn't care about anything important, because there was nothing important. Boys would come and go and be fun. School would end, and be fun. Friends... even they were... well, you know what they were like. I thought I could go back to that. To people who didn't know. Didn't care. That if I made my life _like _it was before, it would _be_ what it was before...' Her voice shuddered, but to his relief her eyes were dry. 'It didn't work.

'But life goes on, doesn't it?' she continued, bitterness creeping in. 'The sun rises. People live their lives. The world turns. You'd think that if you just lay down and waited for it to all end, it'd end. But it doesn't. There comes a point where you have to stop feeling like you're going to die, and - the feeling doesn't go away, you have to _make _it go away.' Selena's brow furrowed. 'I think. I'm not sure I'm there yet.'

Scorpius stiffened. 'Don't -'

'I don't mean doing something stupid - not like that.' Her shoulders slumped. 'I just mean feeling like the day has purpose.' Finally she looked at him, eyes still dry, even though her voice was creaking. 'I'm sorry I dragged you out here.'

'The only place you dragged us was Badenheim,' he said. 'You didn't drag us into that castle. You didn't drag us underground. You certainly didn't drag us to Paris. At most, maybe, you dragged Doyle into the path of a troll, and I for one can forgive that.' He tried a smile, and was rewarded with a twitch at her cheek. 'We're choosing this, Selena.'

'I'm not even sure why I am. Why I did this. Vengeance? Justice?' Her perfect nose wrinkled. 'What does it matter if Prometheus Thane gets locked up or killed? I mean - I know it stops him. But it doesn't... I don't know if I'd feel better. I don't know what it'd change. And then there are days I think I'd break his neck with my bare hands if I just got the chance...'

'I know what you mean,' said Scorpius. 'A little. It won't bring him back. And I don't know if it'll make me feel better. But I can't pretend I want Thane stopped just for... altruistic reasons. Or else, why would I want to do it myself?'

Selena drew a shaking breath. 'I think I need to understand why,' she said at last. 'Why Thane did this, why the Council are doing this. Why Methuselah died. What he died fighting. Right now, it's senseless, and he wouldn't be the first person to die senselessly, but...' She looked away again, quickly, and this time she was blinking. 'I'm sorry,' she blurted out. 'I'm sorry I pulled you into this. I'm sorry I hit you.'

'I deserved it,' said Scorpius. 'I'm just sorry for thinking so little of you. I should have known better.'

'No.' She shook her head. 'Why would you? Why would you think better of me? It's how I've always been. Until...' A muscle in the corner of her jaw twitched. 'Until him. And even then, that took time, that was by accident...'

For a moment he thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead a noise of frustration escaped her throat, and she lunged to her feet. 'I am so sick of crying! I'm so sick of feeling like this! And then stopping feeling like this feels like giving up, like _forgetting_, the idea of feeling happy again feels like...'

'Like you can be happy and he can't, and that makes you a horrible person?' Scorpius stood as well, gaze sympathetic. She nodded, slumping at last, shoulders slouched, and he crossed the distance to pull her into a careful, but sincere hug. She clutched at him right away, like the warmth of contact was a life-line.

'We'll get Thane,' Scorpius promised, voice low. 'And you'll be okay.'

Selena's reply was muffled, face buried in the shoulder of his dressing gown. 'Even if I shouldn't be?'

'Yeah,' he murmured, voice thickening. 'Even if we shouldn't be.'

* * *

_A/N: The Ile des Roues, Isle of Wheels, is entirely fictitious. That there have been many isles of the Seine, some of which have been built up into other isles or simply built up to join the mainland, is not. In searching for something cool and wacky to house the hidden Parisian magical culture, this sparked my inspiration - that the Muggles could know of an isle which __**used **__to be there, thinking it to have just been lost in the mass of land, but for this to be the wizards__' bluff. Instead it's right there, masked by charms, directly under their noses._

_Its name is aptly explained by poor Matt, who gets interrupted by a cranky Scorpius - derived from the symbolism of the God Taranis, which I chose mostly to imply this region has been settled for a __**long **__time, steeped in local lore and history. And let__'s face it, nowhere is going to be as coolly-named as "Diagon Alley", so why try?_


	10. Guiding Star

**Guiding Star**

'It's a nice park,' said Albus, brushing crumbs from his pastry off his t-shirt as he looked around the sculpted grass, the bowing trees casting lines of shadow in the cascade of mid-morning sunlight. He could smell the river, the Seine's waters rushing on the other side of the nearby hedge, and the three of them were not the only ones to think coming to such a picturesque spot for an early walk was a good idea.

Though he suspected the intentions of the Muggle tourists were less morbid. 'Why would you execute someone in a park?' he added.

'It wasn't a _park_ in 1314,' said Matt a little testily as he approached the steps at the far end of the greenery, the stairway leading to the three pillars and a gated passageway through the wall. 'It was - this was a whole separate island back then.'

'I thought islands remained islands,' mused Albus, and licked sugar off his fingertips. 'I didn't know they merged with _other_ islands.' There was a giggle to his left, and he glanced over to see a gaggle of girls about his age, a couple of them throwing smiles and glances in his direction it took him a moment to tell weren't mocking. He grinned back.

Rose, next to him, rolled her eyes. 'New rule: If we want to be discreet, we don't let Albus go anywhere in a t-shirt. I think his biceps are about to make girls pass out.'

'So it'd be wiser to let me go somewhere shirtless?' Albus smirked. 'I prefer them smiling at me for my biceps than my name.'

'Here it is,' said Matt with impatience, and pointed at the plaque set into the central of the three pillars. He squinted up. '_A cet endroit_… in this place… ah. "At this spot", or "in this place" - you get the idea - "Jaques de Molay, last Grand Master of the Order of the Templars was burned on 18th March 1314."'

Albus waited for a sarcastic comment on how this translation had told them nothing they didn't already know, but realised neither Scorpius nor Selena was present. It was a curious sensation; he normally received such comments with apprehensive dread at the clashes it would cause, but in their absence was left having to make a good point more diplomatically. 'What were you hoping to find here?' he said at last.

Matt sighed, stomping down the steps back to them. 'I don't know. Pretty obvious there's going to be nothing here, isn't it? The Grand Master of the Templars was burned seven hundred years ago. Everyone knows this. There aren't going to be any secrets about this park. I thought coming here might... I don't know.'

'Inspire us?' Rose frowned around the park. 'It's a nice place. Hard to imagine a horrible execution happened here. But we're talking about a magical artifact - several, in fact. And these were _hidden_ when Templar assets were seized. Maybe we should be looking to records from after 1314, and also to more magical ones.'

'I don't _have_ many places to research,' said Matt, wincing. 'This isn't my era of expertise. Everyone who reads anything knows a little something about the Templars, but there are so many _stupid_ conspiracy stories around them, from wizards and Muggles alike, it's hard to know what's the truth. If I hadn't seen Badenheim with my own eyes, I would have assumed anyone saying "Templars had the Chalice of Emrys" was pulling my leg.'

'Kerner didn't give us much to go on.' Albus' brow knotted. 'I doubt Thane or this Raskoph had more than that. All they have is "Templar repository" and "Paris". They're going to be as blind as we are. And they're only a few days ahead of us.'

'So we don't look for the Templars, we look for Thane?' Rose cocked her head.

'Maybe, though I'd rather beat him there than follow his trail. I was thinking more that he's going to have to find this place, too. So this is less about where _we'd_ go to look for some hidden Templar cache, and more about where _he'd_ go.'

'Wait a minute.' Matt's nose wrinkled. 'You're right. Except, we don't need to go chasing old records about Templar holdings. We can go looking for _much_ more recent records about where the Thule Society might have been digging or investigating during the Nazi Occupation. It's not like they'd have needed to bother to be discreet!'

'So, Rose, I believe our next step plays to your strengths.' Albus gave his cousin a good-natured grin. 'We'll have to go to the library.'

She rolled her eyes, but looked as invigorated as he felt by the dawning of a promising idea. 'Let's stop by the hotel and check up on the others, first.'

'Agreed,' said Albus, 'and I want another one of those little apple pastry things.' He liked French food, he thought. There was just, so far, not _enough_ of it.

So they walked back across the bridge off the Ile de la Cité, and down the river banks along with the mid-morning traffic of tourism. Central Paris was different to central London, so far as Albus could tell, though he knew himself to hardly be a city boy. London seemed more cramped, more frantic, and while Paris was hardly languid, especially along the central banks of the Seine, there seemed more enjoyment of the surroundings, of the sculpted buildings and ancient sites. Or, he conceded, he was simply bewitched by the novelty of the place, whilst London by now was uniformly grey and dreary to him.

Even on a gloomy, rainy day, he thought, Paris would be sombre, thoughtful, while London would just be depressing.

But it was not a gloomy day. It was a stunning day of late spring, and though the breeze off the river stopped him from feeling too hot, he had absolutely no intentions of putting on long sleeves. Whatever Rose said about his arms being indiscreet. The attention felt fun, for once, instead of making him apprehensive.

The people here didn't know his name, and they wouldn't care.

Despite Rose's protests, he stopped off for another pastry on the way back, and though communicating still consisted more of smiling, pointing, and speaking in a cheerful manner, he was surprised how far that got him. Far enough for another breakfast, anyway.

She looked betrayed when Matt, too, treated himself to another croissant, and grumbled exaggeratedly about boys only being able to focus on food as they wandered along the banks of the Seine. When they got to the large stone markers by an empty stretch of waters, the appropriate bricks were pressed - and then the magically masked bridge to the magically masked Ile des Roues stretched out before them.

'I don't get how they hid a whole island,' said Matt. 'I mean, I know _how_, in theory. It's just a bit _smug_.'

'At least they didn't have to bend space-time like Diagon Alley does. As far as Muggle maps are concerned, the two roads on either side of Diagon are adjacent to one another. _This_ is just a patch of river nobody pays any attention to, or takes boats out to,' said Rose.

'I know. Still. Smug.'

There was a curious change of energy when moving from Muggle Paris into magical Paris. Muggle Paris was remarkably well-ordered - Matt had said something about the city being heavily redesigned a hundred and fifty years earlier. The magical district, beyond the main road, was still a tumble of houses into other houses, roofs leaning in towards one another down the narrow alleyways, so close Albus wondered if you could step from building to building with only a gap of inches showing the abyssal drop to street level.

He peered down one such alley as they crossed the bridge. 'So I guess the wizards didn't get the island revamped like the main city.'

Matt gave a wry smile. 'I don't think Napoleon III included the Ile des Roues on his refurbishment plans, no.'

Rose peered at him. 'There were three Napoleons?'

'No,' sighed Matt. 'Just two.' His lips twitched. 'And the last King Louis was called Louis the XVIII. Except only seventeen kings called Louis were ever crowned. Go figure.'

Albus squinted. 'These French are crazy.'

'Yes,' said Matt, 'but it is a _nice_ city, isn't it?'

'And a nice hotel,' sighed Rose as they reached their destination. 'Are we sure we can't do something about Scorpius paying for all of this?'

'Like what? He's right, we need somewhere with privacy, and the moment we're booking hotel rooms in Paris with absolutely no advance booking, we're going to have to rely on his cash,' said Albus. 'And the moment he's paying for it, he gets to pick where.'

Matt gave a sly smile. 'Let's just hope we have to go to more exotic places with fancy hotels, huh?'

Rose swatted him on the arm. 'We can't take him for granted -'

He lifted a hand. 'Oh, come off it, Rose, he _loves_ it and you know it.'

Albus chuckled as he entered the lobby, a huge room of mahogany floors and red drapes. 'I'm afraid to say Matt is right. Scorp _was_ just itching for the excuse.'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Yes, well, he always -' Then she froze as she spotted the figure stood by the reception desk, and her expression shifted from frustration to pleased apprehension. 'Mum.'

Hermione Granger crossed the lobby to the doors and wrapped her daughter in a warm hug, even if she'd only been away from home for two nights by now. 'I thought I'd skip trying to talk on Floo, and took a Portkey down this morning,' she said, giving them a tired smile. 'You know. To make sure your holiday's going well.'

It wasn't subtle, but it certainly got the message across. Albus gestured towards the stairway that wound deeper into the belly of the hotel, away from the mid-morning passers-by of staff and hotel guests who could easily overhear any conversation they would have. 'Let's head up to the room, then.'

They passed the trip up in silence, and waited awkwardly while Rose fished out the key to let them into the suite. Albus was relieved, as they filtered in, to see that Scorpius was up, about, dressed, and not looking as hideously tired as the day before.

And he was amused to see the flicker of panic as they were followed in by Rose's mother.

Selena, for her part, rose from the futon with a wry expression. 'Of course,' she mused. 'It wouldn't be a crisis without you here to give us a morning briefing, Ms Granger.'

'I thought we'd go back to tradition,' said Hermione, though her voice was clipped with worry. 'It's good to see you all. Rose brought me up to speed on what you know. So I thought I'd come down here and speak in person, for once.'

'Let's all sit down,' said Scorpius, flapping his hands. 'We should have some tea. Tea? Coffee?'

_When in doubt and trying to reaffirm a good impression,_ mused Albus, _make a cup of tea._

'Tea would be lovely, Scorpius,' said Hermione, then gave him an assessing glance as she saw his mild limp. 'What happened to your leg?'

'Oh? That? It was nothing. Just a little stabbing. Incredibly inconsequential and _very_ heroic, I assure you,' said Scorpius, and went for the good china.

Hermione seemed to accept this, and waited until everyone had a drink and was sat down around the coffee table before the bay window before she next spoke, her expression pinched in a manner Albus recognised from when Rose was flummoxed. 'As I said,' she began, 'Rose explained everything.'

Rose looked abashed, still. 'We said we would,' she pointed out needlessly.

'We did,' said Albus, voice calming. 'We're being open about this.'

'I know, and I appreciate that,' said Hermione. Her gaze swept across them all. 'And I'd encourage you to reconsider.'

A noise of protest escaped Rose's lips. 'You said you'd support us on this!'

'You are deciding that the best thing to do is chase Prometheus Thane and his associates, professionals all of them, across Europe to try to thwart his plans which are to _very probably_ acquire a relic that could further empower the Phlegethon virus.'

'Yes,' said Albus, jaw setting. 'I think that's something that needs doing.'

'You cannot treat this man lightly -'

'We don't. We've faced off against him and his men before. We know they're dangerous.' He leaned forwards. 'Did you share this information with the Convocation?'

Hermione's expression tightened. 'I confirmed that the sightings of Thane in Badenheim were accurate, and that he had moved on to Paris -'

'Are they going to do anything about this now he's confirmed to be moving across international borders?'

A pause. 'There has been no more progress on unity in the hunt for Thane, no -'

'And isn't the Chairman's election, the best chance of steering the Convocation to wielding its new powers with any degree of decisiveness, still a fortnight away?'

Hermione's eyes turned to the ceiling. 'Yes. But this doesn't mean it has to be you who -'

'Who's it going to be?' pressed Albus. 'A group of Aurors operating illegally abroad? Dad and Ron acting off the books? The moment they're spotted anywhere, the world's going to know what they're up to, and won't believe they're not acting officially.'

'There has to be some other group of private citizens who can -'

'_Who_?' Albus repeated. 'Don't get me wrong, if you can come up with a more efficient and official way to hunt down Prometheus Thane, I'm all for it. But for whatever reason, he's been protected by certain countries and that means this isn't possible. In two weeks he might have what he wants, or we might lose the trail.'

Hermione faltered again, but it was Matt who spoke next, hands clasped around his coffee cup. 'Why _is_ it so hard to get the Convocation together on the idea that Prometheus Thane is bad news? And surely international cooperation's been the entire bloody point of the Convocation?'

'To fight Phlegethon, yes,' said Hermione. 'And I have been cooperating with task forces across the globe to focus our efforts as a collective magical community. But when it's come to the Council of Thorns' attacks on civilians and government, they're operating in a more strict, cell-based structure. Groups are mostly internal to a country, mostly drawing on that country's particular strand of dissatisfaction to recruit dark magic-wielding dissidents. The Convocation shares information and with that we've been streamlining policies and been able to be far more effective against the Council when they show up. But we've not been fighting them as a collective, because we've not had to.'

'Mum was talking about a multi-national Auror division,' said Selena quietly. 'But that's only if she makes Chairman.'

'Yes.' Albus heard the decidedly neutral tone in Hermione's voice, before she continued. 'And that won't be for weeks yet. The problem is that Thane is the first Council of Thorns target to be operating across international borders. And because he's such a _minor_ figure in the Council, or so our intelligence suggested, fallen out of grace for the loss of the Resurrection Stone, certain nations of the Convocation don't feel motivated to start letting foreign law enforcement officials have jurisdiction in their borders.'

Albus glanced at Scorpius at the mention of Thane losing the Resurrection Stone. He shook his head, and Albus drew a deep breath and looked at his aunt. 'This is why it has to be us,' he said. 'Nobody can accuse us of working for any government. We're as familiar with Thane and his men as anybody. We're all of-age.'

'And you said you'd help us,' repeated Rose in a low voice.

'I did.' Hermione sank back on the armchair and pinched the bridge of her nose. 'And I will. I just hoped I wouldn't have to.'

A tense silence fell, in which Selena shifted her feet and demurely cleared her throat. 'Did you tell my mother?'

'I did not,' said Hermione. 'You're an adult, and I don't think I want the British Representative to the International Magical Convocation either involved in this _or_ breathing down my neck. And it would be hypocritical of me at this point.' She glanced at Rose and Albus. 'Though I'm starting to understand an awful lot more how your grandparents felt in the war.'

'Sorry,' said Albus, and meant it. 'But we're choosing this, Aunt Hermione. We could walk away, we know that. But he needs to be stopped, and he needs to be brought to justice. I know nothing would happen to us if we went home, or just carried on with our holiday. And I know this is a choice you never _realistically_ had.'

His aunt sighed. 'I know,' she said, then reached for her handbag and pulled an impossibly large folder from it, which she placed on the coffee table. 'So I'm about to commit a crime of showing you classified information, and _you're_ about to commit a crime by reading it.'

Selena lifted her hand. 'I've already stolen classified information, I think we're a bit screwed on that count anyway.'

Another sigh. 'I really can't judge.' It was starting to sound like a mantra by now. 'This folder contains everything we have on Prometheus Thane, including background, which isn't much you don't already know or haven't already seen. It also includes our information on Phlegethon, and its changes.'

Rose squinted. 'Changes?'

'Phlegethon was a very _slow_-acting virus, considering its end goal. Months of transforming the living into Inferi? It makes sense that the Council's intention at Hogwarts was to make a statement, because as an attack in and of itself, it was woefully inefficient. But not any more.' Hermione's expression darkened. 'It's being changed. Improved. The transformation is quicker, the lethality rates are higher. We got to an outbreak in Georgia last week that was only a few days old to find the infected there were almost dead already.

'There is _some_ good news,' she continued, 'in that the Council of Thorns is no longer using rituals the like of which they used at Hogwarts, so there's no perpetual infection, you don't get afflicted by simply being _in _an area. It's the infected who transmit the illness, currently airborne. But that means no rituals to destroy, and our people can operate more freely in applying the cure.'

She nodded at the folder. 'Technically, we shouldn't be calling this "Phlegethon" any more. The symptoms match, the end result is the same, but this is a self-sustaining virus, and considerably more virulent. The Chad government captured a Council of Thorns operative who infected an area. This new strand of Phlegethon has a new name: Eridanos.'

Matt groaned. 'Of course that's what it's called.'

'I thought that was a constellation?' said Scorpius, eyebrows raising.

'That's Eridanus, though the names are linked. Eridanos is another of the five rivers of Hades. And was supposed to be the river that ran around the world.'

'Much, as I assume, the Council want the virus to do.' Hermione pushed the folder away. 'I don't know if this information is going to be of any use to you, but it's there. I can start to put out feelers for more news on Thane now we have an idea of what he's doing and where he's going. Do you have plans?'

Rose sighed. 'Research. Thane thinks the Chalice is still here. So we have to hunt for it, too.'

'Then what can I do to help?'

Matt's expression shifted thoughtfully. 'Resources,' he said. 'Information. We're operating off my bookshelf and maybe some books we can find here in Paris. In so far as my French can keep up with intense academic reading.'

Rose perked up. 'Matt's got a Book of Many Books, Mum. If you could hook that up to a better library than just his...'

Hermione's eyebrows raised. 'I'll see about getting him access to the whole of the Hogwarts library. It's still the best in the country. Now. Money.'

Scorpius raised a hand. 'Sorted.'

'I can arrange to siphon off some of the task force's funds to support -'

'No.' He sat up. 'That's money to help dying people. I have money. I'll fund us.'

'That's your _inheritance _-'

'You know how much money was given to my family in the war. Money stripped from dissidents and Muggle-borns. You know only a tiny percentage was recovered as most of the time there was nobody alive to claim it.' Scorpius' eyes narrowed. 'Let me put that money to use for a good cause: stopping Thane.'

'And room service,' murmured Selena.

Hermione sighed. 'So be it. I haven't had much time to find more recent, pertinent information, but I'll keep looking. Just _stay in touch_. If we find something either end, we say. Who knows what could be valuable.'

Albus nodded. 'Agreed,' he said. 'And... thanks, Aunt Hermione.'

'Thank your father,' she said dryly. 'He's the one who stopped Ron coming down here to drag you all back by your ankles.'

'We'll get this done,' he said, chin jerking up a defiant half-inch.

Hermione didn't disagree, but a hint of sadness tugged at her face. 'I know you will,' she said softly. 'I know you're learning how to. That's part of what worries me. This generation was supposed to be the one without war.'

'If it's any consolation,' said Scorpius, 'it doesn't look like this one's the sins of the _old _generations coming back to bite us. We're just making up whole new problems.'

* * *

'You didn't ask me to walk you across the road just to say goodbye,' Rose said to her mother, gaze wary as they reached the steps leading up to the Magical Assembly.

'I could have,' said Hermione, brow furrowing. 'This might have been a lovely mother-daughter moment.'

'We have those. It's called normal, everyday stuff. We don't _do_ forced platitudes, Mum. I'm not saying you don't give me enough fuss, I'm saying that something's up.'

Both women stopped, and Hermione sighed as she glanced from Rose to the front of their hotel, a good way down the street. 'Selena Rourke,' she said at last.

Rose's lips twisted. 'Yes, she tricked us to going to Badenheim - but she's not wrong, this needed dealing with. She might be messed up, but she _did_ lose her boyfriend to this. We can handle her -'

'I'm not worried about handling her. God knows the young lady has every right to be upset, and to want to charge across Europe to string Thane up by his guts.' The frown remained. 'I'm more worried about her mother.'

'Her mother's representing Britain in the Convocation - she's _fighting_ the Council of Thorns -'

'Did you know the Convocation has passed laws which have forced policy changes in how the MLE conducts its anti-Council operations? How Legal Affairs prosecutes them? How Saint Mungo's manages medical issues? Laws voted on by all the countries participating, and these laws are _binding_ to all member states - else the nations pull out from the Convocation, and so lose the Convocation's support.'

Rose watched her mother's expression as she spoke, and decided it would be best to tread carefully. 'Isn't that the point of the Convocation? To coordinate the world-wideresponse to a world-wide threat like the Council of Thorns? So there's the same efficiency all over, the same high standards all over?'

'I'm not denying that. And thus far there have been no problems. But Lillian Rourke has a _huge_ amount of backing in the Convocation, which is fine when she's been championing the right causes, but concerning when she stands to win the post of Chairman in a fortnight.'

'Don't we want someone on our side heading the Convocation?'

Hermione drew a slow breath. 'The Chairman is going to be able to tip the scales on all sorts of votes - yes, including matters like the hunt for Thane. They will be truly influential and be able to seriously push their own legislative agenda. A legislative agenda which has the capacity to overrule a nation's own governmental decrees. As the Representative to the Convocation, Lillian's power is comparable to the Minister's. As the _Chairman_ of the Convocation, she'd arguably be the most powerful woman _in the world_.'

Rose narrowed her eyes. 'That's sounding awfully melodramatic, Mum. There was a charter for the Convocation, rules put in place to limit its power and keep its focus on the Council of Thorns.'

'To keep its focus on a _crisis_ -'

'Is this because she's been able to overrule you on your task force's affairs?' said Rose suspiciously.

Hermione straightened. 'She has dictated -'

'Mum, I'm setting off to hunt Prometheus Thane. I don't have time for political power-plays, and this has nothing to do with Selena -'

'This isn't about my ego,' Hermione insisted. 'My point is simple. Lillian Rourke is capable and I believe she's trustworthy but she's also _exceptionally_ opportunistic. She went from being the head of the DIMC to, as I said, one of the world's foremost witches almost overnight. And now her daughter has catalysed the international hunt for Prometheus Thane. If she can wring _anything_ out of you... she will.'

'I don't care,' said Rose firmly. 'She can use us to make herself look good, she can paint us as villains, I don't _care_. I'm here for Thane, for justice and to _stop_ him. So long as she doesn't get in the way of that, she could be planning on sacrificing a basket of kittens for all I care.'

'All right.' Hermione lifted her hands in surrender. 'But you won't want this hunt to become a political tool. That's all. Selena doesn't seem to want her to know what's going on; I simply encourage you to keep it that way. Now.' Her hands dropped, but only enough to come to her daughter's shoulders, warm and reassuring. 'How much trouble has that young man of yours been getting into?'

'"That young man" - _sound_ more like you're in your seventies, Mum,' Rose scoffed.

Hermione grinned. 'I'll take that evasion as a "plenty", then. You just be _careful_, Rosie.'

'International hunt for major criminal and a legendary relic! Priorities, Mum!'

'The way_ I _remember it,' said Hermione, voice going lighter, 'life and love didn't stop in a crisis.'

'I don't need to know!'

Her mother laughed, and squeezed her shoulders before letting go. 'I'm saying to not get hurt. That's all,' she said, sobering but still affectionate, reassuring. 'The cause is important - but so's he. You still have to live when it's all over.'

'I know, Mum.' Rose bit her lip. 'I only have to look at Selena to remember how bad it gets.'

Hermione mumbled a curse she wouldn't usually utter before her daughter. 'Of course.' She shook her head. 'You've been keeping up with your training?'

'As much as I can. I don't really have anyone to practice on; I'm not sure the others would be thrilled for me to sift through their brains. But I know what I'm doing, Mum. I've got all your lessons.' Rose gave her a reassuring smile. 'I'll be fine.'

Her mother sighed deeply. 'I have to catch that portkey. But _stay in touch_. I'm here to help you. You don't need to hide things from me this time.'

They embraced, then Hermione headed up the steps to disappear into the Assembly, and only when she was gone did Rose realise there had been guilt in her mother's voice. And fully understood the words "this time".

At Hogwarts they'd kept secrets from her, secrets they'd not even kept from Professor Lockett - and not just because it had been harder to keep secrets from Lockett. Now her mother had the chance to be their tether to home again, she was hoping to be more open. To no longer be an authority figure to hide the truth from.

It was an effort at redemption, but Rose knew she was being given a display of trust with the hope that trust would be given in return. And on the one hand, it was heartening to see this more equal treatment from her mother, to not be given the impression she was seen as a silly schoolgirl about to do something ridiculous.

On the other hand, being treated as an equal by her mother sounded rather terrifyingly grown-up - more grown-up than hunting Thane. Hunting Thane was a strange, ridiculous impossibility the like of which had only been in her life for some eight months. Nobody else went through that. Discovering how to be an adult and be treated as such by her parents was the sort of mundane experience almost everyone went through.

Somehow its mundanity made it more scary.

She was still ruminating on this as she walked back down the street to the hotel, and so when she found the tall shape of Scorpius on the other side of the door inside the lobby, she almost walked flat into him. Instead he caught her wrist and she gave a yelp of surprise. 'What're you doing?'

'Stalking you,' he said cheerfully. 'And, er, Al wanted me to watch to make sure nothing happened.'

'Going _across the road_?'

'Technically, going back. Technically, he also said, "we shouldn't go around on our own". Technically, this was an excuse for me to nip down here and grab you in private.'

Rose's eyes swung around the hotel staff and guests who buzzed in and out of the building. 'Yes,' she said. 'Very private.'

He made a face. 'We're having dinner tonight.'

'Well, yes, one traditionally _eats_ of an evening -'

'You're just trying to make this as awkward as possible.' Scorpius scowled.

She tried to smother a smirk. 'Scorp, I think we're _well_ past the point of you asking me out -'

'I'm trying to arrange a date!' he protested. 'This is a nice thing! Away from all of our fussing friends and our dramatics. You're supposed to swoon.'

'I think I'm also past the swooning point.' But she grabbed his hand and her expression softened, gaze turning reassuring. 'Relax. I think it's a lovely idea. We could do with winding down a bit. I look forward to it.'

'Oh. Crap.' His expression sank. 'Now I have to plan.' But his smile returned after a moment, sincere to off-set his self-effacing joke. 'And if we leave the hotel, it'll be _really_ hard for Albus to lumber in and interrupt.'

'I don't know,' mused Rose, 'I bet one of those three could manage it.'

He smirked, letting go of her hand and stepping away, gesturing to the stairs back up towards their suite. 'In which case,' said Scorpius, eyes dancing, 'I'm going to have to work hard to make sure we have _every_ privacy for what I have in mind.'

Her smile in response was calm, because she fought very hard to keep it calm as she fell into step next to him. But it took a good dose of personal effort, as all of a sudden it wasn't confronting her mother, worrying about hunting ancient artifacts, or being hot on the heels of Prometheus Thane that had her heart thudding in her chest. Just as Rose had thought she had as much as she could handle, it seemed there was some new challenge - and this one was entirely more enticing than the rest.

* * *

_A/N: Rose, Al and Matt begin this chapter at the Square du Vert-Gallant by the Pont Neuf on the Ile de la Cit__é, a part of it which used to be a separate island called the Ile aux Juifs and Ile des Templiers. This is, yes, a real place, and the plaque Matt reads is real._

_Ruminations on French rulers are __**slightly **__erroneous. There was actually a Louis __**XIX**__ of France, though he ruled for only twenty minutes after the abdication of Charles X on August 2nd, 1830 before his own abdication, and is as such one of the shortest-reigning monarchs ever, and Matt can perhaps be forgiven for missing this rather obscure bit of lore. However, Matt is right that only seventeen French monarchs named Louis were ever crowned - Louis XVII was a son of Louis XVI, the king executed in the French Revolution. Dying at age 10, Louis XVII was never king, let alone crowned, and his title was only bestowed by royal supporters. When Louis XVI__'s brother took the throne in 1814, he assumed the title Louis XVIII, recognising his nephew's legitimacy and also to imply an unbroken line of kings despite the First Republic and First Empire. So I like to think that Napoleon III acknowledged Napoleon Bonaparte uncrowned son as Napoleon II in a sort of 'take that' retaliation when he became Emperor of France in the 1851. Napoleon III was also responsible for the huge urban redevelopment of Paris, which is why the Ile des Roues looks considerably more dated and Medieval than central Paris - I don't think the wizards let him fix up their island!_

_Okay, that might not be too relevant to the story. But this chapter doesn__'t have many notes, so I have to get my amusement somewhere!_

_The river Eridanos is, yes, another river into Hades, and Eridanus is a constellation. Both share certain mythical routes, and there are all sorts of stories, but the main one is to do with the myth of Phaethon. The son of Helios, the Sun-God, he bargained with his father to drive the sun chariot for a day, driving the sun itself across the sky. He lost control of the horses and when the Earth was in danger of being burnt up, to prevent this, Zeus killed him with a thunderbolt. It was into the Eridanos that he ultimately fell, and the constellation is supposedly the path he trailed across the sky._

_And thus do we have one of our titular references._


	11. In Black and White

**In Black and White**

'This library would be great,' said Matt as he pulled a hefty tome off the shelf, 'if it weren't all in French.'

'It's not _all_ in French,' said Rose, squinting about the main magical library of Paris, a huge stone building with a vaulted ceiling and windows of coloured glass through which the bright sunlight cascaded to cast the stacks into severe shadow. 'Just most of it. Besides, I thought you could read French?'

Matt sighed, clambering down from the short ladder and handing her the tome. 'It's been a long time since I had lessons and spent holidays out here. I could probably, yeah, read a novel in French. But it would take time. To go through this much information is best done skim reading incredibly _dense _academic writing, which is difficult enough to do in English without missing something integral.' His gaze swept across the books. 'And then there's the fact that I don't read Old French, or Middle French, or Latin. This is going to get ridiculous.'

'Maybe we should wait until Mum has us hooked up to the Hogwarts library?'

'Even that won't be as good a source as looking in a Parisian library and records room for Parisian matters.' Matt's lips pursed as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 'Maybe we should ask her for a translator.'

'And miss out on poring through these books yourself?' Rose gave him a wry glance. 'That must have hurt to even consider.'

'A lot of things hurt these days,' he said without meaning to, and so was relieved when the voice of Selena came from the end of the shelf, sounding arch and tired.

'Weren't you going to look at more modern stuff? Thule running around Paris and the records of those?' She was standing in the aisle like coming down the stacks would physically hurt her, as if books might reach out clawed hands to pummel her with knowledge.

Matt scowled. 'That's even worse. Those are city records, donated diaries, planning reports - I don't know where to start looking, and this is all in a foreign language. Don't get me wrong, give me the right book and I'll probably get through it in _time_, but sifting through a dishevelled collection of city records - at least there are booksin this section in English. God knows what's in that pile.'

'I don't know.' Selena shrugged. 'If I were Prometheus Thane, then I'd start by looking where the Thule Society went eighty years ago, instead of where the Templars may or may not have been seven hundred years ago. So we should look where he looked.'

'That's lovely,' said Matt, 'except we have no idea where he looked.'

'Unless he used this library.'

He turned to her and ignored Rose's warning, concerned look. Upset as Selena might have been, he didn't have time for inane commentary when he had a monstrous piece of research ahead of him. 'And how, exactly, are we supposed to know that?'

Selena met his gaze, expression flat - then she gave the faintest hint of a superior smile, and his aggravation wilted as she pressed a finger to the open register next to her. 'We check the record. Of course.'

Matt and Rose exchanged bewildered looks before they hurried down to join her. 'The record...'

'We signed in to get access to the building. The library keeps track of where we are. And when you take a book off a shelf, it leaves a record for it. So they know who had a book last, whether it was returned - so if someone comes looking for a specific book, they know where it is.' Selena's superior smile remained. 'Standard magic for a public library.' And there was, indeed, the title of the book _The Dark Ages of Dyfed_ written in the register, his name scribbled next to it in a facsimile of his own handwriting from the entrance book he'd signed.

Matt had spent his childhood either wanting for nothing by way of books, or being too young to care about a public library's magic records. Then there had been Hogwarts, which used the more personal security system of a librarian nobody dared cross. Although he'd known of these record systems such a thought hadn't occurred to him, and he felt his gut tense with indignation that the one of them least interested in research had pointed this out.

'It's not like he'll have listed himself as Prometheus Thane if he even came in,' said Matt through gritted teeth. 'That's like begging to be arrested.'

'I could question how much a French librarian cares,' said Rose, lifting a placating hand, 'but we're talking about the public records from the 1940s. There won't be _that_ many people who accessed them over the last few days, which is our time window. If we see anyone who had a pattern of looking for Thule Society movements in occupied Paris within the last week, that's going to be rather telling, isn't it?'

Matt had to smother the stab of jealousy he knew was unfair when he looked to Rose. It was an old feeling, this, the surge of competition that he'd never been able to shake. As a couple, before, after - they had their respective strengths academically, but he'd always felt his came from hours of hard work and hers came from sudden flashes of inspiration. She could turn her attention to any topic and master it, while he would have to graft and struggle and still come second place to her - or third, or fourth. It was one reason he'd turned his focus onto a topic such as history; brilliance could not compensate for hours spent gathering a huge body of knowledge, and she had never had enough interest to rival him.

And now she'd trumped his most significant skill with a simple deductive reasoning that had passed him by.

Of course, she spotted the expression that flashed across his face before he could smother it, and he received the briefest indignant glare for his sins.

"_Stop looking like that. I can_ see _you sulking, and that's not fair just because I got a better mark...__"_

So many rows before they'd ended it. It had been mutual, whatever Selena said - it had been for the best, lest they ended up hating one another.

Maybe hating one another would have been easier.

'That's a good idea,' he said instead, and tried to sound as sincere as possible in apology. 'All right. Let's take a look. It'll get us further than me pretending to be competent going through the French books.'

The self-effacing gibe was enough to get a flicker of a smile from Rose, the unspoken acceptance of his unspoken apology, and Selena waved an imperious hand and turned on her heel to lead them down through the library. Somehow she'd already picked up where the records section was, or perhaps she knew to zero in on the most abandoned and forlorn part of the entire library.

These bookshelves were stacked in order - but the papers and bindings upon them were arranged by date, rather than topic or any categories. The bindings themselves indicated if these were planning records, or donated diaries, or government records, or so forth, but this would not help narrow down finding anything of the Thule Society - especially if anything had landed in the dauntingly thick '_Miscellaneous_' binders.

Matt sighed. 'We've got about five years to go through,' he said. 'Let's see who was fixated on city matters in the last few days.'

'Oh,' said Selena. 'This is the part of research that's really boring.'

Rose sighed and passed her the hefty book on Welsh magical history they'd found, the English language book which had looked the most promising. 'Go through this, then,' she said, 'and find the chapters and sections which might give us something on the Chalice of Emrys.'

Selena took the book, expression flat. 'This is better,' she said, 'but in the same way that stabbing your little finger is better than stabbing the palm of your hand.'

'Come on. It'll be fun,' said Matt, and meant it, pulling off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. 'There's going to be _so much_ in here.'

Rose gave him a lopsided smile. 'In French.'

'I know enough.' _I hope._ 'Let's check the records book - simplest way is to go through person by person, you tell me which binder they got, I tell you what's in it, and we keep a tally on the topics they investigated until we get an agenda to match Thane's.' He reached to his backpack to pull out a notebook and pencil, nodding with satisfaction at the prospect before him.

Mercifully, there weren't a lot of people who'd gone through the records in the last few days. Some had been so obvious in their narrow agenda as to not possibly be Thane - others had browsed far and wide, and so it was through every single one of these journals they had to look, trying to discern what their research had been about before they could dismiss them or consider them a candidate. No names lunged out at him, Thane or his men sensible enough to use a discreet pseudonym, and several times Matt wondered if they'd even _been _here, but eventually he frowned at his notes.

'This Dupont guy,' he said, tapping his pencil. 'He's been looking a lot into local wizarding family lines, which is a bit odd, but he's _also_ been looking over things from the Occupation. Let's read some of these journals properly before we move on.'

Rose looked up from the stack of papers in her arms, and nodded. 'He seems a good bet. But there are still about a dozen binders he took out. So let's get to work.'

It wasn't a competition. That was what Matt told himself when they hauled the binders off the shelves and set them on the table Selena had claimed, going through them page by page to try to see what Prometheus Thane, if he had indeed used this pseudonym, had sought and found. They were here to thwart his efforts and save the day. It wasn't about who found the answers first.

Which was why Matt made sure to grab the last book this Dupont had looked in, on the principle that it was in there he'd probably found what he wanted.

'Ugh,' he said once he saw the headers. 'This one's all about assessments of damage done to the city after the Alliance of Wizards retook Paris. There could be something buried in a single line of text here...' His eyes narrowed. 'It's at least organised district by district.'

Rose nodded. 'Then I'll see if I can point you in the direction of the right district.'

And the work began. Matt had to grab a dictionary, and the going was slow with his perfunctory grasp of the language. All he could do was try to get the gist of each paragraph and see if it was useful. He scanned chunks of text for references to the Thule Society, but he was only a few pages in before there was a noise from Selena.

'I've found a part on the Chalice of Emrys,' she said, voice guarded. 'It's probably still just mythology...'

'Anything we don't already know?'

'I'll see.' A moment's silence as she sat there, lips moving. 'A lot about the idea of it having been created, and this book's citing someplace called Amroth as having been Myrddin's home in the period.'

Matt's nose wrinkled. 'I thought that was a place from _Lord of the Rings_.'

'Apparently it's in Wales. Go figure. It's talking about caves and what have you and... okay, this is really boring. Travels of Myrddin. What an enormous arsehole he was in the mythology -' Selena stopped, and squinted at the book.

'Yeah,' said Matt. 'This is why I really hope he's not the same guy as Merlin. Or that's ruined all sorts of childhood inspiration.' He shook his head at Rose. 'You don't want to know.

She nodded, and frowned at the page she'd just turned in her journal. 'Excavations,' she told him. 'That seems to be what he's after - that's what lots of these books are about.'

'I figured. But it narrows the field.'

'There's a mention here of the Chalice falling into the hands of a wizard called Aessin, who may or may not have been one of Myrddin's apprentices,' continued Selena.

'I don't know this one,' said Matt, looking up. He shrugged at the glances he got. 'I've never studied the bloody thing, I just know the stories. This is exactly what we're here to find out.'

'Apparently he used it to bring a Saxon warrior friend of his, Tancred, back from the dead.' Selena arched an eyebrow. 'This is supposed to be the first time the Chalice was used in such a way, but there's this... ugh, there's waxing lyrical here...'

She descended into silence and so Matt let her work, bending over his dictionary to try to identify a few key words he could scan for. This carried on for some time, Selena muttering something about old English, and the moment was broken not by her, but by Matt himself as he picked up the next binder.

'There's a name which keeps on popping up, or a group of names,' he said. 'Wizards of the Resistance - the magical contingent fighting against the occupation in general and the Thule Society in specific. There's a branch of them who're in about three of these books so far - it could be a coincidence, or it might be them specifically that Thane - if this even _is _Thane and not just some local history nut - God, I don't know -'

Rose placed a hand on his arm. 'Breathe, Matt. This is our best lead. Let's see it through before we start second-guessing ourselves. Who're this branch?'

'_Lib__ération-Magique_. They seem to have been one of the major early groups of resistance fighters, though I'm not seeing any references to them in these '43 and '44 records - I'm going to stop and check out who they are.' Matt looked at her apologetically. 'If you think it's a good idea?'

'No, go ahead. I'm trying to find patterns, still. Which is _hilarious _in a foreign language. This is all down to the planning permissions and - ugh, carry on. I have a dictionary, and this is about all I can do to be useful, I can't pick out any detail like you can.'

'Assuming this is even right,' groaned Matt. He'd disregarded the books on wizarding families so far, but after scribbling down a few notes of the names he'd picked up from the references to the _Lib__ération-Magique_, it was to them he turned next.

It was long and excruciating work. Tracing names referenced back to the 1940s, trying to find patterns or determine the fate of this group in old records which had been poorly-maintained and from an era where the authorities didn't care in the first place. So when a name lunged out at him that he recognised, it was like a gut-punch.

'Kerner,' he breathed.

Both Rose and Selena sat bolt upright, happy for any distraction. 'He's in there?' said Rose.

'He's mentioned in this book - he was the Thule Society officer who had a member of the group captured and executed in December 1941. A whole _lot _of them died around then, or in the few months beforehand - not all of them have a cause of death listed, for some of them the mentions just stop. But there were about four ringleaders, three of which were dead by December 1941. One doesn't have a cause of death listed, just his death's _mentioned_, and the other two were executed on Kerner's orders.'

'Who's the fourth?' Rose asked.

'A man named Guerrier. Charles Guerrier. There's no mention of death, but records on him just dry up, and - huh.' Matt turned another page. 'Copy here of a wanted poster for him dated June 1942, issued by the Thule Society. So they thought he was alive by then, and still wanted him.'

'Okay. So this Magic Liberation - could they _sound _more fruity - pissed off Kerner the Friendly Ghost,' said Selena, eyebrow arched. 'Kerner was probably a busy man. Likely had a _lot _of oppressing to do. Does this have anything to do with the Chalice?'

'I'm ready to guess this Dupont name is a pseudonym for Thane, or one of his people, doing reading here. That their research led to Kerner is way too big a coincidence. So Thane's people thought this group of wizards, or possibly this Guerrier guy, were important,' said Matt, defensive.

'Great. What's our lead?'

He scowled as he found himself with no answer, and in the end the response came from Rose, who unfolded a page of her binder to show a large plan of the city. 'Catacombs,' she declared. 'That's what he was looking for, in the end. What he wants is in the Paris Catacombs.'

Matt raised an eyebrow. 'You're sure?'

'Dupont's research went through excavations from the era, and eventually he focused exclusively on those in the Catacombs of Paris. The only question is _where_.'

'I guess that narrows the field. Look for any connection between the Catacombs and the _Lib__ération-Magique_, the Thule Society, the Templars…'

'Paris has catacombs?' Selena chipped in.

'Old natural caverns under the city, the south side,' said Matt, leaning back on his chair as he pondered. 'They were expanded in the... eighteenth century? I think, because the cemeteries were running out of _space_, so they expanded and developed the caverns into a great big underground mausoleum. It grew over time and a portion of it's a tourist attraction now, but the catacombs are supposed to be huge, stretching across great chunks of Paris. The caverns are why you don't get tall buildings in certain parts - not enough ground support to build up. I went there once, couple of years back. Family holiday. The walls are lined with skulls and bones, it's a _really_ creepy place.'

Selena was looking at him, expression somewhat more taut than he thought was necessary for an explanation like he'd given, but before he could ask she snorted and turned her attention back to her book. 'Scorpius was right,' she muttered. 'With facts like this, you must be a lot of fun at parties.'

Matt felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he straightened. 'I don't know about Templar connections to the place,' he said, looking at Rose instead. 'So let's see if there's any place the Thule Society or _Lib__ération-Magique_ and the Catacombs show up together.'

Rose nodded, gaze sympathetic. 'I'll take some copies of these maps.'

They didn't speak much for the next couple of hours. Matt remained bent over his book, going through excruciating pages of a language he half-understood and finding nothing useful - and repeatedly convinced he'd missed something essential.

It was Selena who broke the silence, voice tense. 'There are a few references in here to the Chalice of Emrys being used on the dead to bring them back. Though in every case it's only been used moments after they died, in a fight usually. Bathing the wounds and pouring water of the chalice down their throats did the trick. It even mentions a wizard trying to use it on someone dead a day, and the chalice doing nothing.'

'Brink of death, then,' said Matt, brow furrowing. 'That would make sense. Even Muggles can do that now.'

Selena stared at him. 'Muggles can bring people _back from the dead_?'

He looked startled. 'In a manner of speaking. The heart stops, breathing stops, you're dead, right? But if you get the heart pumping again, then they live. We can do it with charms, have been able to for years.' He nodded at the book. 'I'd reckon the chalice would be special because it could heal the wounds that killed someone and get the body started again, even if the injury was tremendous. The charms, and Muggle medicine, are imperfect at best. But this is only if you get to them soon enough, before the body begins to degenerate too badly, before the soul has properly departed.'

'So it's more like really advanced magical healing,' said Selena quietly, looking back at the book.

Matt shrugged. 'Sure, if you add in an extended lifespan and magic which surpasses anything we can do. It's weird, older magic - in some ways it was so much less sophisticated, wands and staves so much less capable of interpreting a wizard's will, so personal spells were less effective, but then you have these enormous feats of power which can't be replicated today. Some scholars reckon magic was _more_ powerful back then, and it's not just that wands were less sophisticated but magic was harder to harness -'

'I'm going to put this back,' said Selena, jumping to her feet. 'There's no more of use in it.'

He scowled as she grabbed the hefty tome and hurried back towards the shelf they'd found it on. 'Was I _boring_ her?' he asked Rose.

Rose sighed. 'No. You were just sat in a library explaining things enthusiastically.'

Matt bent back over his papers. 'That makes no sense.'

'I should -'

She was halfway to her feet before Matt's hand shot out to grab her arm, heart thumping in his throat as words on the page leapt out at him. 'I've got it.'

'What?' Her attention was on him now, and she moved closer, bending over his shoulder to read. 'You'll have to translate for me.'

Her hair dangled down to brush against his ear when she leaned over the paper. He fought to ignore it. 'It's the briefest mention in a section about rebuilding work in the 14th Arrondissement - district. Somewhere near the Rue de la Tombe-Issoire, excavation work conducted by the Thule Society in the region - Kerner, again! Early 1942, Kerner had excavation work done, yes, in the Catacombs, but at this point the _Lib__ération-Magique _were dead or gone and this was meant to be their old meeting place!' He thumped his finger against the page. 'Get me those catacombs maps - and a city map, if it doesn't mark what's in relation to where...'

Rose hurried to rustle across papers, and Matt grabbed the one of the modern city to trace his finger across the 14th Arrondissement until he found the right road. 'There, that's the region... now where's that in relation to the Catacombs...'

She had that map, too, and her gaze flickered across both. 'Okay, so if there'san entrance to the Catacombs _here_, they run down this way… so we want any tunnels which run across the 14th - there, this little network here. Or, not so little.' Rose made a face as she drew a circle with her finger around a section of the catacombs.

'_Rue de la Tombe-Issoire_...' Matt frowned. 'Tombe - tomb? No, _fall_... what's Issoire? It might be nothing, road names come from all sorts, I just wonder...'

'We could research.' The corners of Rose's lips twitched. '_Or_ we could go check out the Catacombs, see if your lead's right. Good work.'

'I just read the book. _You_ figured out we wanted the Catacombs in the first place.'

'Team effort, then?' She gave a pleased smile which lit up her whole face. 'More than enough credit to go around.'

'I thought you didn't share credit for your achievements?' He made sure to keep his voice light, the ribbing gentle as he got to his feet.

'I can share credit where credit is due.' She stuck her nose in the air. 'And I could deign to allow you some recognition. You did the leg-work, after my brilliance guided the way.'

He had to grin back. 'It did.'

'Ahem.' They turned in a jolt to Selena, who had returned, empty-handed, to the table. 'Do I need to be here for this?'

Colour shot to Rose's cheeks. 'We're done researching -'

'I can see _that_.' Her expression was flat, one eyebrow arched. 'If you two are done kidding yourselves, then, do we have a lead?'

Matt cleared his throat and picked up his jacket. 'We do,' he said, nodding. 'Or, at least, I know where to start.'

* * *

'I'm sensing we're going to spend a _lot_ of time in the next few weeks underground,' mused Scorpius as they padded down the dark corridor. 'That said, do we really think the _tourist_ district's where we're going to find artifacts of ancient power?'

He'd been excited when Matt and Rose had burst into the hotel room, insistent they'd found a lead and that they had to go explore dark catacombs under the city. It sounded _exactly_ like the sort of solution their problem needed, and was even enough to make him less irritated about how Matt and Rose had fallen into finishing each other's sentences as they explained, Selena stood behind them and looking unimpressed.

Excitement had dampened when Matt led them to the one entrance of the catacombs he said they could reliably access: the Muggle tourist venue. They'd paid for tickets. They'd taken the long, cold stairway down into the dark, the spiral steps winding round and round enough to make him dizzy, sunlight and life of the city left far above until they reached dim, artificial lighting. The passageways stretched on ahead, iron gates locked at certain points to corral them forwards, Muggle tourists stopping and gawping at the sights.

Somehow he suspected Prometheus Thane hadn't come this way.

'I don't know of any other ways down,' said Matt, lips pursing as he led the way. 'I mean, sure, there are some marked on the map, but I have no idea if they're still accessible. I _know_ this is accessible, and you know what else I know?'

'No, but I just _bet_ you're going to tell me.'

'I know we can _Alohomora_ any of the gates that keep Muggles out, I know there will be plenty of spots down here where nobody will see us do it, and I have the maps so I know how to get to the right section of passageways from here. _Or_ we troop around Paris looking for where we _think_ access points might be, when they could have been blocked off even if we find them.'

'Fine, fine,' grumbled Scorpius as they turned a corner. 'It just sounds like a lot of hiking -'

And he stopped at the sight before him. Until now they had been walking gloomy stone passageways, cold and brown, the roof rounded, the ground a mixture of paving stones and, where those had been lost and cracked to time, hard earth. But the passageway widened as they turned the corner, and now they saw the Catacombs proper.

Matt had not been exaggerating when he talked of walls lined with skulls. He had been a little misleading, perhaps - they were not all skulls, but an array of bones set into the walls, not piled but carefully arranged as if they were parts of an intricate mosaic, evenly placed or creating a pattern. Layers of skulls lay at the top, empty eye sockets and fixed grins leering down at them.

It was like the site of the world's most organised mass-murder.

Everyone's jaws dropped except for Matt's, who strode towards the door on the far end of this passageway, and nodded at the writing inscribed at the top. '"_Arrete. C'est ici l'empire de la Mort__"_,' he read, voice low but carrying across the hallowed passageway. '"Stop. Here is the empire of death". Or, perhaps, "of the dead", I'm not entirely sure.'

'Well,' said Selena with a sigh. Her expression had changed the least of all of them for the last hour. 'That's suitably creepy.'

Scorpius winced. 'Are we going to piss anything off by being down here?'

'Down this section?' Matt shook his head and carried onward. 'No. Muggle tourists come through here all the time. No indications that wizards have identified of actual hauntings. But we're going to be heading into the blocked off passageways, the ones it's illegal for Muggles to access because people get lost down there, have even died down there. There's no telling what's in _those_ sections.'

Silence fell as they followed Matt, who had taken copies of the Catacombs maps they'd found in the library - evidently wizards cared less than Muggles if people wanted to troop underneath the city - and had picked out the best point for them to break off from the official passages.

It didn't take too long. The passageways wormed their way along, sometimes opening up to grander segments of displays of full skeletons, inscriptions set into plaques in the walls making note of where bodies had been excavated and relocated from, the entire display a macabre celebration of centuries of Parisian dead.

But it was well-lit, which was more than could be said for the passageway beyond the iron grating at which Matt stopped and pulled his wand. 'Nobody coming?'

Albus looked up and down. 'Nope.'

'Good.' A flick of the wand had the rattle of the gate's lock, and Matt swung it open, careful to avoid a noisy creak. 'Quick. We want to get out of sight before we spark up a light. No need to add trouble with the Muggles to our list of problems.'

Bundling down a dark passageway until they reached a corner felt like a terrible idea at the best of times. It felt even worse when Scorpius knew the walls were lined with skulls and bones, and so he had no desire to reach out to steady or guide himself. Instead he settled for falling into step behind Matt, as Albus was taking up the rear, and he reached for Rose's hand.

He pretended to himself that this was to offer _her_ reassurance, and pretended that he wasn't at all comforted by the tight squeeze of her hold. So he made sure to not sigh with relief when they rounded a corner and Albus' voice, sudden but never startling because it was _Albus_, sounded out in the silent dark. 'We're clear.'

'Thank God for that,' said Matt, voice hoarse. '_Lumos_.'

Scorpius almost dreaded the light. Sometimes ignorance in darkness was better than illuminated knowledge. But to his infinite relief, this forbidden passageway of the catacombs was no more gruesome than the well-organised tourist section. He supposed that it was in the city's best interests to keep most of it organised and not falling into disarray - and that anything else would be disrespectful.

'We've got a way to go,' said Matt as they all lit up their wands, 'but I'd be surprised if it's more than a half-hour's walk. Assuming I'm reading the map properly.'

'I'm marking the way,' said Rose, lifting her wand to a patch of plain stone. 'Magical marker, no Muggles will be able to see it, it'll fade when I want it to,' she added as Matt gave her a scandalised look over his shoulder. 'I'm not _carving on skulls_, Matty, relax.'

Scorpius couldn't tell if he hated Rose being familiar with Matt enough to call him 'Matty', or if he loved that Matt _hated_ it. It could be both, he supposed. 'So what exactly are we looking for?'

'A Templar repository, or possibly an old meeting spot for the French Resistance,' Matt said.

'Great. And what does that look like? I imagine it's not _obvious_, or Muggles and other wizards and the like would go tromping in there. And artifacts were meant to have been hidden there for hundreds of years. So logically it's hidden, probably more hidden than just happening to be in the catacombs.'

'Also,' said Rose, 'you said the catacombs were built a couple hundred years ago. We have to be looking for somewhere a good seven hundred years old, if not older.'

'Like I said, the caverns were here all along.' Matt's voice was tense. 'Maybe the Templars built something down here. It'd be a good hiding place. I don't know how hidden it'll be, because the Thule Society did excavate and uncover this, but - there you go, Rose, job for you. Trace any magical signatures in the area.'

Rose gave his back an arch look. 'Fine. When we get there.'

They continued to troop in Matt's wake for a good while, the macabre environment soon enough becoming normal, though Scorpius reckoned he'd never think skulls would make a decent door-frame ornament. They had been silent for maybe ten minutes before he spoke. 'Nasty thought occurs. So we're following the same line of inquiry as Thane, right?'

'That's right,' said Matt.

'So, logically, he and his guys have been down here before us, if they found this lead two days ago.'

'Almost certainly.'

'Which means one of at least two things, but two options spring to mind. The first is that he beat us here, found the Chalice, and is off cackling to his masters to enhance Phlegethon or Eridanos as we speak.'

Albus sighed. 'Possibly.'

'The other possibility,' said Scorpius, 'is that he didn't find it yet, which means he, his goons, and his Nazi are all still in the city. Maybe crawling over this very area.'

'That had occurred to me,' said Matt, but his voice was so tense Scorpius would bet his Gringott's account he was lying.

'Then we'll be careful.' This was Albus, and just a few words were enough to calm the fear that had crept up at the prospect of a run-in with Thane and his men. 'We'll keep an eye out for signs of others, and we'll back off if it looks like there's someone else here. We're not going to engage.'

'Not that I disagree,' said Matt, 'but surely we're going to _have_ to fight Thane and his men at some point, unless we get _really_ lucky?'

'I was going to go with really _smart_,' said Albus. 'Thane's a tremendous fighter. We've fought one of his men, and he was a tough nut to crack.'

'Thane was faster than Downing,' said Scorpius, awkward in this admission. He had trained himself for so long to not speak of fighting Thane, or to be evasive if he had no choice. Discussing it felt like lying by now. 'Downing was good, but Thane, he... he moves like nothing I've seen. I reckon I could have ten seconds against Downing, one on one, before he won. I didn't have two against Thane.'

'But you're better than you were,' said Albus. 'We all are. And there's no more sure way to lose than to assume we're done going in.'

'I like to consider it a survival tactic,' said Selena, voice wry. 'But I'm not going toe-to-toe with mercenaries anyway.' She was indisputably the weakest of them all at magical combat, though Scorpius suspected his edge only came from training hard these past few months, a greater physical fitness and, when they worked, his illusions.

'We'll be careful,' said Albus again, and they descended once more into silence.

'We should be getting near the area,' said Matt after another fifteen minutes, consulting his map, and Rose lifted her wand.

'Wandering a bit might be necessary,' she warned. 'It depends on how powerful a - oh.'

Scorpius looked over his shoulder. 'Good "oh", or bad "oh"?'

'There's - a _significant_ magical signature down here.' She looked surprised. 'South. Head south.'

They did so, as soon as Matt reached a turn which would lead them that way, and as Scorpius watched Rose's expression he could see the rising anticipation. 'I can't get a pin on what it is, exactly,' she said, wand still lifted, and with the distraction in her gaze he took her hand again to guide her. 'It's big, whatever it is - I don't think this is a spell, I'm not detecting the same... active working in the weave of magic.' Her voice was low, awed. 'This is something that's emanating magic. Or _has_ been.'

'It could be here,' said Matt, eyes lighting up. 'The Chalice would emanate -'

'Let's wait and see what we find.' That was Albus, as ever the source of reason.

'Left again - it's near,' said Rose.

'Look for ripples in the walls,' said Scorpius, 'or subtle changes to what you see. I wouldn't be surprised if we're expecting some sort of illusion hiding a passageway, and those kinds of flickers can be tell-tale signs of -'

Then they rounded the next corner and found, no more than ten metres down the passageway and framed in an arch of stone, a heavy, metal door.

Matt squinted at it. 'Rose?'

'Um,' she said. 'I think we're close. It's getting hard to narrow down, this entire area's suffused in magical energy.'

This section of the Catacombs was different to the passageways they'd marched through for the past half-hour. The masonry above, while worn and old, was nowhere near as old as the rest of the complex. The doorway, too, and the metal door were all made of a different stonework, and Matt cocked his head as his gaze swept across it all. 'This has been worked on,' he said. 'Kerner's excavations, do you think?'

Rose stepped forward, but shrugged. 'Could be. The records implied this section was closed off a hundred years ago, though it's impossible to say if the French opened it up or if Thule Society excavations did.'

Cautiously, Matt padded up to the door. It was wide and thick, the metal rusting at the hinges, but it still looked sturdy. He swished his wand at the large, hefty-looking lock. '_Alohomora_.' Nothing happened, and Matt scowled, waving his wand a few more times and muttering under his breath.

'Or,' said Scorpius, leaning forwards, and twisted the handle.

The door opened with a shriek of complaint from the hinges, and Matt gave him a resentful look. 'Well, this is obviously not going to be it,' he said. 'The resting place of the Chalice of Emrys is hardly going to be behind an unlocked door.'

'I agree,' said Scorpius. 'But I also doubt it'd be behind a door you could open with a spell a _first year_ can cast.'

'Guys?' That was Rose, and the two men tore their gazes from one another to the room they'd opened up, illuminated by the light from five wands.

The stone chamber was long and wide, not that dissimilar to the passageway they'd found in Badenheim. Scorpius had to wonder if the similarities in masonry were intentional, for the stone walls - plain in a stark contrast to the halls of skulls behind them - bore archways the like of which the golems had stood in back in Germany. In between the archways were bare plinths, everything simple, plain and empty. The only markings on the stone were on the wall directly in front, which had the Greek cross carved into it, two metres high, and writing directly above.

What drew the eye, though, was the solid sarcophagus resting in the middle.

'Bloody hell,' muttered Matt. 'What is this, a Templar burial site?' His gaze swept across the empty chamber before settling on the sarcophagus, and he took the two steps leading to it in one bound. 'It's got the cross on the lid, yeah... and a name. Reynald de Sablé.'

'Do you know who he is?' said Rose as the four of them followed him in.

'Not a clue. But I'll find out.' Matt's fingers traced the stone lid. 'That's weird. There's a date of birth, 1254, and the hyphen, but then it's blank. No date of death.'

'Maybe they got wiped out before he died,' said Selena.

'Then why does he have a sarcophagus?' Scorpius quirked an eyebrow.

'Maybe they don't know _when_ he died?'

'Traditionally you'd put a question mark.' Matt looked up at them, expression creased. 'Okay, I know this is morbid, but I'm going to make sure there are no enchantments on this and then... open it up.'

Albus sighed, wandering the rest of the broad, bare chamber. 'It's what we're here for.'

'And, gee. A skeleton.' Selena rolled her eyes. 'Not seen, like, a _million_ of those today.'

Rose shrugged, wand drifting about. 'I can't tell anything any more. There's just _magic _here. Not shaped like a spell, or a ward. It's everywhere. I can't even narrow down where it's coming from.'

'If I were to guess,' said Matt, looking down, 'then it's from this. If there's anything on this sarcophagus, then it's masked by whatever's putting out that signature.' It was with care that he lifted his wand and murmured the incantation for levitation, with reverence that he made the lid slide its way off the sarcophagus and gently lay itself upon the floor. And it was with trepidation that he made his way to the lip of the receptacle, looked down...

...and swore. 'Shit.'

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. 'Nothing?'

'Not even bones. Or rags. It's completely bare. And you don't sound surprised?'

'Of course I'm not surprised.' Scorpius shrugged. 'This was unlocked, there are no magical protections. Anyone could wander in and have a poke. If this _was _where the Templar golems were, where Kerner excavated, where these Resistance fighters met, then anything of value here is long gone. The Chalice isn't here.'

'Then where the hell is it?' Matt stepped back from the sarcophagus, scowling, and began stalking about the tiny chamber. 'And what the hell's this magic _pulsing _off the area?'

'What's this writing?' said Albus, nodding up at the inscription on the wall above the giant Templar cross.

Matt stomped over and squinted up at it. 'To... damn it.' He paused for a long moment, lips moving. 'Something about - passing between life and death,' he said, before muttering to himself some more. 'I think it's something along the lines of, "_to pass between life and death takes a clear mind_".'

'Well,' said Scorpius flatly. 'That's _super_ helpful.' He swept an arm around the broad chamber, expression wry. 'If this is the place, then Kerner took everything of value. Or Thane took everything of value. Either way, let's face it: there's nothing here.'

* * *

_A/N: Yet another info-dump chapter._

'_Dyfed', the region mentioned in the book that Matt and Selena pick up in the library, is an old petty kingdom of Wales which ceased to exist around the tenth century. It roughly corresponds to modern-day Pembrokeshire. In the era the gang are looking to of post-Roman British Isles, Dyfed would be probably the best name to apply to the region. Aessin and Tancred are entirely fictional creations of my own, because not everything in wizarding history is going to relate to something in mythology!_

_Lord of the Rings, of course, belongs to JRR Tolkien. Matt and Rose are both from households where Muggle literature wouldn__'t be disregarded, though Matt's a little wrong in his recollection: Amroth is a person in Middle-Earth. But it __**is**_ _also a real place near Tenby, Pembrokeshire._

_The Catacombs of Paris are a real place, a real, awesome, intimidating place. The inscription __"Arrete! C'est ici l'empire de la Mort" ("Stop - here lies the Empire of Death") Matt reads out is genuine, something anyone can see if they go on the tour. If any of you ever happen to find yourselves in Paris, check them out. They're spooky and fascinating and well worth the time and money. They do genuinely stretch across the city beyond the limits of the tour, and portions were built into the natural caverns which already existed underneath the city, so they do stretch on for huge distances. It's illegal to access them outside of the permitted areas - people have indeed got lost and died down there._

_Portions of the French Resistance _did _hide out in them in WW2, and in the region of Tombe-Issoire, the old caverns that pre-dated the catacombs were used for burials for the Templars of Malta. Germans also did establish an underground bunker below the 14th Arrondissement for their own purposes. Basically, I have had to make up so __**little**_ _history and lore to justify the use of the Catacombs of Paris in this plot. I__'ve just had to inject my own stuff to extant facts._

_Lib__ération-Magique are, of course, a fictional group of the French Resistance, a magical contingent. Their name is derived from genuine groups Libération-Nord and Libération-Sud._

_Oh. And, er. I've got, like, a book out, 'n shit. Information and links for it in my profile. I appreciate that a science fiction thriller might not be what y'all enjoy from me, so all I'm going to ask is this: If you've liked my fanfic, even if my 'professional' (ha) stuff isn't really your cup of tea, Signal Boost for me? Facebook. Twitter. Getting word out there is always worth it._


	12. Star-Crossed

**Star-Crossed**

Matt sat at the coffee table in the hotel suite and scrubbed his face with his hands. 'Book,' he murmured, 'give me _Tomb Horrors and Defences_.'

The Book of Many Books was flat open on the table, blank pages a pale, endless maw of ignorance before him, but at his voice they shifted. Ink ebbed up out of nowhere for words to scrawl across the parchment, a tidy typeface with the title he'd requested at the top. He skimmed to the contents.

'Hidden passages... false walls... mental trickery...

He flipped through the pages and sank into the words he all but prayed would contain the answer. De Sablé's tomb had to be the place, had to hold the answer, and it had given him nothing. It couldn't just be that Thane had beaten them there - or if he had, there was no indication he'd uncovered anything that Kerner and the others hadn't.

The Chalice was supposed to be there. The Thule Society hadn't found it. It hadn't even been missing, it was just not there. Professor Dresdner had presumably thought there would be something there, or Thane wouldn't have hunted the place down. All his instincts told him he was missing a piece.

'Where are the others?'

It was Rose's voice, but he didn't look up, flicking through pages and not wanting to lose track of what he was hunting. 'Downstairs in the bar. I think. Albus might be sending word to London. Maybe.'

'And you're hard at work?'

'There's something we're missing.' He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. 'I get the impression from the historical records that this tomb wasn't as easily accessible before Kerner got there. Now it's accessible, it's no big deal because nothing's _there_. So either the Chalice is, or was, somewhere else... or there's something more to that tomb.'

'What about the writing? Bridging the gap of life and death?'

'I should translate that better. Make sure there's no more to it. That's a good idea, thanks -'

And he lifted his head. And froze.

Rose stood at the bottom of the steps, hair tied up in the way he knew meant she was _really_ making an effort, long strands breaking free to tease the back of her neck. She wore a dark blue dress that was elegant in its simplicity, close-fitting and low-cut but of a colour and style to keep attention on the dress itself, and her, rather than where the clothes _weren't_.

Though this was also a diverting prospect.

'Um,' he said eloquently.

Rose immediately coloured. 'I'm... sure if any one of us will figure it out, it's you -'

'You're going out tonight?' he blurted, and hated himself for being so clumsy.

She gave a tiny nod. 'Scorpius and I are going for dinner. We won't, er, be long.'

'Well, you're allowed to be.' He was speaking too fast, he knew, getting to his feet as if this were some formal occasion. 'You should go. Have fun. I think we're not going to get enough of that overall.'

'Yes. Well. I will. Scorpius is down at the bar, so... I'm going to... go...' Rose gave him an embarrassed smile and headed for the door.

Something surged in Matt's chest. 'You look great,' he croaked.

She paused at the door, bashful. 'It's the only nice thing I packed, I threw it in... you know, just in case, so -' Then she stopped, realising she was babbling, and ducked her head. 'Thank you. You... have a good evening, Matty.'

He managed to not flinch. 'Yeah,' said Matt, throat dry. 'You two have a _great_ evening.'

It wasn't that he didn't mean it, he reasoned to himself as she left the hotel suite. It was that he did mean it, he just might _also_ want to stab himself in the eye while he was at it. With a groan he collapsed on the futon, head again buried in his hands, but frustration this time was miles away from the tomb of Reynald de Sablé.

He was in serious, serious trouble.

Long moments passed before he moved. Long moments in which he could imagine Rose sweeping downstairs, Scorpius there and probably dressed up like a peacock, there to smile and say the right things, to sweep a girl off her feet like he could do so effortlessly. And Rose would smile and blush with nerves _he_ could never instill in her, then they'd be off, Scorpius paying for somewhere swanky, dinner and wine and dancing and then back here to the hotel and the room they could share in private -

Matt shot to his feet, heart thumping in his chest._ I need to be not here._ It wasn't so much that he expected Rose and Scorpius to stumble in through the door in a tangle of locked lips and fumbling limbs at any moment - they were doing that enough in his head already - but this imagining was only going to become more vivid the longer he was alone.

He barely remembered to secure his book before he staggered out of the suite and down the stairs. The ornate decorations of the hotel, all polish and style a hundred years old, were now more like a mockery than a luxury. Malfoy money, for pleasantries that felt far, far beyond reach, beyond him.

Like her.

His footsteps rang out across the lobby, quiet at this time of evening, before he fell through the double doors into the hotel bar. It was like tripping into a hole of mahogany and red, music tinkling across the room from a piano in the corner that played itself, and right then it was almost empty.

Almost.

Matt collapsed onto the bar-stool next to Selena and squinted at her glass. 'I don't know what that is,' he said, 'but it's got an olive in it so I want one.'

Selena looked pale, tired, and now surprised, but her mask of airy disinterest slipped back on. 'You crave olives?'

'I crave a drink that _needs_ an olive in it,' said Matt. He'd shared a room with Willoughby and Hedley in his fifth year; booze happened to every young wizard at some point in their life, especially if they lived with two of Hogwarts' greatest menaces to discipline. It had been fun, and funny, and he'd had a headache the next morning, but right now a headache was guaranteed. Fun was not, so he'd paw for that wildly.

She didn't argue with this and lifted a finger to the bartender. 'Another martini.'

'Martini,' he said. 'I know this drink. James Bond.'

'I'm pretty sure the bartender's name is Louis -'

'Never mind.' Matt rubbed his eyes. 'Why are you sat down here drinking a martini on your own?'

'Because Albus left to Floo London? More pressingly, why are _you_ stumbling in here demanding a martini?'

The glass was slid across the bar to him, and he didn't complain when Selena had it put on the tab for their room. Scorpius was taking Rose out for dinner. He could afford the drinks that had to be applied directly to his sanity to cope with this. 'You were down here,' he said, and gulped a mouthful of martini. 'You saw them leave.'

'And you're _fine_, I bet.' You could bludgeon a troll to death with her sarcasm.

Matt slumped. 'I'm really not,' he said, and to his intense distress his voice croaked as the words slid out.

The wry disinterest fled Selena's face for concern, and she put a hand to his arm. 'I'm sorry. That's rotten.'

'I thought we'd... I thought getting back together was inevitable, you know?' He realised how insanely like a stalker that made him sound, and had another gulp of martini. 'I mean, we broke up. But we still got on. Maybe we just needed time. With other people, with ourselves. But every time we talked there was still... spark. So I thought I'd be patient. So I thought I'd be a good guy.

'And then she started to go out with Flynn. I mean - _Flynn_.' Matt's nose wrinkled as he remembered discovering _that_. 'I didn't know if I should feel threatened that she wanted someone more, you know... manly. Or reassured that there was no better version of _me_ around. Does that make sense?'

'In a crazy way,' said Selena. 'I'm probably breaking the girly code with this, but I'll be honest, I don't give a damn tonight. She once described you to me as being a really good but never-ending Rubit Cube, and Hector as being like an endless string of ice-cream parlours.'

He squinted. 'Rubix Cube? Did she mean... I'm intellectually stimulating but never stop, or did she mean she could never figure me out?'

'Oh, the former,' said Selena. 'You're not that mysterious.' She waved a hand. 'And before you ask, if you eat at an endless string of ice-cream parlours, you get sick. That was the point she was making.'

Matt hesitated, then drained his martini. He was going to need the fortitude for his next question. 'Then what's Malfoy?'

Selena's expression twitched. 'A mixture,' she said after a minute.

He slumped again, head back in his hands. 'She really likes him, doesn't she?'

'There's no accounting for taste. Two more martinis.' Selena pushed their glasses away. 'But, yes. She does.'

'I thought it was nuts when I heard they'd got together. I thought Phlegethon had made them crazy. And then I thought isolation had. And then I wondered, arrogantly, if she was just rebounding onto bigger and bigger pricks.' Matt drew his hands raking down his face. 'Then I realised it wasn't going away any time soon and she really did want to be with someone she couldn't stand. But didn't want to be with me.'

'Don't be silly, of course she can stand him. They got past that. Extreme situations make superficial things go away, you get to... what matters.' She hesitated, but then there was another martini, and so everything was better. 'But, no. I don't think they're a fleeting thing. I don't think they're going anywhere.'

'Except for out for dinner together. In Paris. With _his_ bank account.'

'If he doesn't wine and dine her somewhere fancy I will be _astonished_, and if it doesn't make her positively swoon into his arms I'll eat my hat.'

Matt flinched. 'You're a very honest person. Please stop.'

She shrugged and sipped her martini. 'What're you going to do?'

'What the hell can I do? Suck it the hell up.' He sighed. 'She likes him. And he's... a prick, but he's not a _bad_ guy. Bad guys don't throw themselves in the path of a raging forest troll for someone they don't even like that much.'

'I guess there's something to this wizard's debt after all.'

'We're doing something important. Assuming Thane doesn't already have the Chalice, assuming we're not too late. It's hardly time for me to be a child. And even if it _weren't_... she likes him. She's happy with him. End of.' He smacked his palm on the bar.

'It is,' said Selena, voice more gentle. She reached to cover his hand with hers, and gave him a soft smile. 'Doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though.'

He returned the smile. 'Thanks. For sympathy. For listening.' His brow knitted. 'You dodged my question. Why're you down here?'

She reached for her drink. 'I'm fine -'

'You're not, let me repay the favour.'

'You don't want to be in my head.'

'I'm sorry. About Jones.' He said this while he still dared, and was rewarded with a flinch. 'I didn't really know him. But he was a hero. And... the man knew, like, _everything_. I kind of resented him for it, but it was impressive as all hell. He was a bloody genius.'

Selena looked into her drink. 'He was.'

'You just seemed a bit more knocked for six this afternoon than normal.'

'I...' She hesitated. 'This is going to sound mental. But it's been a long time since I sat in a library and hit the books to research anything, let alone something important, and that combined with listening to a guy ramble on passionately about something _really_ nerdy...' A hand came up. 'Don't get me wrong. You're nothing like him. You're far too emotionally accessible and yet also cynical, and your hair's stupid. Don't read too much into you reminding me of him. There are days when _soap_ can make me think of him and I burst into tears. This one was just... new.'

'Okay. Sorry?' It seemed like the thing to say. 'But you also sort of ran off after reading about the Chalice...'

Now she looked away, gaze going to her drink. 'I got into this to go after Thane. And, I mean, that's still the case. But learning he's - that we're - after something that can apparently bring back the dead, except it turns out it _can't_, not really...'

'Oh.' He winced. 'Yeah. It doesn't seem it works like that. If it even exists. But I'm sorry, hope is... losing hope sucks...'

'I don't need an ancient magical artifact to make me think he's suddenly going to walk through the door,' said Selena, blonde hair falling over her shoulder to create a veil between them, her voice low and pained. 'That happens all the time. Don't take this too seriously. I find ways of giving myself false hope that breaks my heart every day.'

But she spoke with a waver, and so on an impulse he shifted his stool closer so he could slip an arm around her shoulder, awkward but desperate to do _something_ to make this anguish of hers a little bit less. 'Bloody hell,' he breathed. 'I don't know how you're even still going, _I'd_ be a blubbering pile on the floor if I were in your shoes...' He winced. 'That sounded more complimentary in my head.'

She gave a choking laugh and looked up at him, eyes shining once her hair fell from her face. 'Don't think I'm strong. Because I'm not. I don't survive because I'm strong, I survive because there's no alternative.'

'But you're still here. Still fighting,' he said, and a wry note tugged at his expression, along with guilt at his heart. 'While I'm whining about my ex having a new bloke.'

'It sucks to not be with the one you love.'

'Yeah,' breathed Matt, and lifted a hand to brush stray strands of golden hair from her face before he realised what he was doing. When he did, he hesitated, fingers curling back, his hand not moving but his touch inches from her cheek, and she didn't pull away.

She leaned forwards before he did, but he bent down to meet the kiss. There was something lingering and yet ardent about the touch of her lips, a needy pain to the embrace as her hands slid around his neck, and he returned it with his own. Until he tasted the tears that had trickled down her cheeks, and that was enough to bring him crashing back to reality - or close enough, back to thoughts, to memories, to Rose stood in that dress before she sauntered off to meet Scorpius...

Matt broke the kiss but didn't move back. He felt her hands slide away from him, and for a long moment he didn't dare look at her, eyes closed. 'I'm sorry,' he breathed, voice hoarse. 'That was a really stupid thing to do.'

She did pull away, and when he opened his eyes, her face was fallen but in control. She brushed her hair from her face. 'I'm not the one you want to be kissing. And you're not the one _I_ want to be kissing.' There was an awkward silence, and she reached for her drink. 'And your hair's still stupid.'

He looked up self-consciously, even though he of course couldn't see his own hair. 'Why do women -'

'Because it's needlessly floppy and I just want to throw a comb at you. Gel. Or cut. I don't care.' There was an artificial tension to her gibe, but he wasn't going to complain about her deflecting the issue.

But it wouldn't help.

Matt pulled his stool back to where it had been, and watched her pretend to sort out her makeup with a napkin, instead of drying her cheeks and eyes. 'You're a great girl -'

'I really don't need the apologetic pep-talk, Doyle.'

_That_ was more sincere, and he winced. 'Not what I meant. I just meant - thanks. For listening. And for not making this awkward.'

'Which you seem intent on re-making it...'

'That's true.' Matt picked up his glass and drained it, feeling the martini swirling in his gut, by now leaving him warm and a little light-headed. 'Come on.' He got to his feet.

She eyed him. 'Where?'

'We're both sad and maudlin and I know _I'm_ going to just get worse as the night goes on. So let's fight it. We're going to find Albus. And we're going out.'

There was a moment's hesitation - then Selena Rourke rose to her feet, expression the perfect mask of arch superiority. 'Fine,' she said, as if she were graciously doing him a favour, 'but if you try to kiss me again, we will be having _words_, Matthias Doyle.'

Matt quirked an eyebrow, but knew banter when he saw it. 'As I recall,' he said, gesturing to the door, '_you_ kissed _me_ first.'

She scoffed. 'In your dreams...'

_No_, Matt thought as he followed her out. Albus would not be hard to find, across the road at the Assembly, and then all three of them could try to make something fun of this evening without sinking into despair. _Not my dreams. Because in my dreams it__'s someone else._

* * *

'You do realise,' said Rose, trying to not laugh as they walked, the last rays of the dying sun casting them into the lamp-lit streets of Paris by night, 'I'm not making it very far _at all_ in these heels.'

'Then it's just as well we can apparate wherever we like,' said Scorpius, voice airy and smug.

'You don't need to impress me by taking me to a _Muggle_ restaurant, you know.'

'You're half-right. I _do_ need to impress you,' he said, lifting a finger. 'But we're not leaving the Ile des Roues for that. We're leaving the Ile des Roues so none of those bastards can interrupt us.'

'"Those bastards,"' she laughed. 'Even Al?'

'Tonight? _Especially_ Al. He's the most likely to dare. And has the best record of it. So I thought I'd go some place they wouldn't find us.'

'Which is not perhaps the best idea if a crisis arises.'

'The way things have been going lately? I'll take the night off.'

She laughed again, then raised an eyebrow as he checked a road name before directing them down a turn into a side-alley. 'Where _are_ we going?'

'If I _tell_ you, it ruins the surprise.' He gave an enigmatic smile.

Despite apparating he had brought them, for reasons escaping her, to the bottom of a hill, the roads and pavements - and even steps, it was that steep at portions - running in between older buildings, more ramshackle and homely. The buzz of tourists and locals was steady, but more relaxed than she'd seen at the park that morning or in the city in the afternoon, and as they got higher she could see the bulk of Paris spilling out below them, millions of pinpricks of light.

They were in the north of the city, she thought, moving down roads which were narrow and cobbled, car traffic nothing to speak of. Buildings had flat roofs and white walls and were all of two or three storeys high, and clumped so close together she couldn't see their destination until they turned a corner and were there.

The heart of the square was a small, fenced park, a patch of greenery kept shrouded in the evening gloom by hedges and tall trees, but the square's fringes bristled with life. Restaurants spilt out onto the streets, each small but uniquely styled, homely and personal. The tables on the terraces were full enough to give the square life and noise, not crowded enough to be bustle and fuss, and passers-by stopped at the park, at the artists with their easels out and racks of their wares, at the quartet of student musicians who'd grabbed string instruments and their singing voices and relied on kindness tossed into a hat to make their evening pay.

'I'm pretty sure,' said Scorpius, glancing at one of the artists, 'that they're just hacks trying to get people to pay for caricatures. But anyway, we want that restaurant.' He pointed down the square to one whose front was painted green, the canopy over the terrace a wooden trellis across which crawled flowered vines. 'No idea what makes it different to any of the others,' he said as they got there, and all he did was give a waiter a casual wave before grabbing one of the tables spilling to the edge of the canopy, 'but apparently the food's _excellent_.'

'Apparently - why did you -' He'd pulled a chair out for her, and this diverted Rose's confusion for a moment as she sat down. 'This isn't what I expected.'

He beamed. 'I know. You thought I'd take us to Les Deux Mages or something, didn't you?'

'I admit I expected something fancier. Fussier,' she amended, not wanting him to think she disapproved.

Scorpius plainly didn't, sitting down with a flourish. 'I thought we could see real Paris. Not stay cooped up on the island. We won't be found. We won't be interrupted. We can have a nice evening. When did we last do that?'

'Without any expectations placed on us as to what we'd be doing or when we'd be back? Never.'

His brow furrowed at last. 'Bloody hell. I don't take care of you, do I?'

'Don't be silly,' said Rose, letting her gaze drift to the square, watching the musicians for a moment. 'It's my fault as much as yours. Maybe more, I'm the one with the parents who spent weeks watching me like hawks. And this makes up for it, anyway.'

'Or, it will.' Scorpius looked like he was going to say something, then the waiter appeared. Being still in a tourist-heavy part of the city made the proceedings of ordering in a foreign country _considerably_ easier, though Rose cast a glance at the wine list as Scorpius picked something, and she kept her expression clear until the waiter was gone.

'We can split this bill -'

'Absolutely not!' He leaned forward. 'I'm treating you, Weasley. Accept the nice things.'

She grinned despite herself. 'But between this and the suite...'

'I meant what I told your mum.' Scorpius looked away, brow knitting for a moment. 'My family's money might be old, but a lot of it comes from some pretty bad places. Funds taken off Muggles and dissidents in the occupation, never returned because there was nobody to return it _to_. Even funding for Death Eaters, held by my grandfather as somewhere safe, somewhere _legitimate_. My family home was used as one of Voldemort's meeting places, and I'm pretty sure people have been murdered in my dining room and wine cellar.' His gaze returned to her, abashed. 'I'm sorry, tonight's not meant to be about all that.'

'Tonight's meant to be about us. Your family is a part of this.'

'My family has nothing -'

'I understand you wanting to put the money to a... better use,' said Rose gently, cutting off his indignation. 'But you don't need to act like it's nothing for you to support us like this. For you to do things like _this_.' She offered a small, reassuring smile.

His in return was still bashful. 'That's why I did this. Any idiot can throw money at a problem. I thought you'd like to see something different. You don't get places like this in the wizarding world.'

'And this is lovely. So I won't pester you any more on money. I'll just say thank you.'

'I _do _feel I've got lots to make up for,' said Scorpius after a moment's hesitation, in which the waiter reappeared with most exquisite timing to bring them wine, and they both had to pretend he hadn't said something loaded.

So she waited until she'd had a mouthful of wine and the waiter was gone before narrowing her eyes at him. 'You have the most extraordinary habit of putting yourself down. Even when the whole world -'

'But I lied to the world.' He grimaced. 'Didn't I? About me versus Thane. I didn't beat him at all. I was just too much of a coward to tell people what he'd really done, when it could be _useful_.'

'I agree that knowing Thane, or maybe even the Council, _wanted_ us to get the Resurrection Stone is... perplexing,' Rose granted. 'But it doesn't change anything we're planning. Anything we're doing. And you _still_ marched into the middle of his scheme and foiled it.'

'With Harley's help.'

'Thane wanted you to be there on your own. You denied him that. Who knows what his original intention was? Maybe he had to roll with it, giving you the Stone. I don't know why he'd have taken great pains to get you there alone, ambushed by his people, only to hand you the Stone and send you on your way. I think it's far more likely he had to adapt to a changing situation.' She shook her head. 'This changes nothing. And it certainly changes nothing that _matters_.'

Scorpius winced. 'I didn't want to tell your mum -'

'Mum can stew on it for a while. This doesn't make Thane not a bad guy. If he really wanted to do good, he'd have not just given you the Stone, but told you about the ritual, too. Methuselah died because, amongst other things, we didn't know about the inner markings.' Rose shrugged. 'We already knew Thane was up to something when he didn't kill us the first two times. That there was a third muddies the waters, yes, but they were murky to begin with.'

He nodded, took a gulp of his wine, and then - 'I hate it,' he burst out, with a fervour that surprised her. 'I hate it when the papers talk about my defeat of Thane like it was a big deal - even if it were true, they sideline Harley and his guys all the time. It's worse that it's fiction, I hate it.'

'I know. I could tell all along - I just thought you hated it because of Methuselah.' A thought struck her, and she couldn't help but give him another small smile. 'You do realise you take people saying something incorrect but _good_ about you far worse than you take people saying something incorrect but _bad_? You were satisfied to take the story about you cheating on Miranda for _months_, but people paint you as a hero -'

'Except I _am_ a prick, at times. I'm not a hero.'

Her expression fell. 'If Methuselah hadn't stopped you, you'd be dead,' she pointed out. 'You double-crossed Thane, you went into the Forbidden Forest to get Acromantula skin and would have done it on your own if I hadn't shown up. Only yesterday you grabbed Al's cloak, told us to trust you, and threw yourself in front of a troll. For someone you've admitted you don't even _like_.' Rose put down her wine glass and reached for his hand. 'I don't know if the world should call you a hero, but I know_ I_ do.'

Scorpius dropped his gaze, trying to smother a pleased smile. '...Doyle's not _that_ bad.'

'Just yesterday you were complaining about him.'

'He _does_ make gooey-eyes at you,' Scorpius protested, though his voice was light, confident. 'But you're right. I have nothing to worry about. It's only natural that he would find you bedazzling, and just his rotten luck that I'm such a heroic hero that _you_ are bedazzled by _me_.'

She remembered the look on Matt's face earlier, and smothered the sense of discomfort that came with it. 'I _am_ sorry I invited him. I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'd probably hit the roof if you'd suggested Miranda.'

'You know, I'm not even angry at her any more? I realised this when I invited Selena. I was furious for ages. Now I just... pity her. I pity that she had to go to such lengths for something so... petty.' His expression shifted. 'There are things I hate about how Phlegethon changed our lives, but the thing I _value_ is how it's made us see what's important.'

She swallowed, throat dry as his piercing blue eyes locked on her, and for once they weren't twinkling with amusement but firm, cutting. 'Like what?'

'Your entrées?' The waiter appeared next to them with a pair of plates, and Rose idly considered hexing him into a frog.

On the other hand, she _was_ hungry.

But the moment was broken, so instead she focused on her rather good goat's cheese salad. 'Mum was fussing this morning.' She tried to not smile as Scorpius looked apprehensive. 'Not about _you_.' _Or, that's not the bit I'm talking about_. 'About Selena. Or, more precisely, her mother.'

'Lillian Rourke?' Scorpius' brow furrowed as he refilled their glasses. 'I thought she was doing a great job.'

'I think Mum's irate that there's someone as interfering and competent as her on the case. She made a point, though, that the Convocation's advanced in leaps and bounds in power, and that Lillian Rourke, as Britain's rep and a possible future Chairman, stands to gain. Mum thinks she's a little bit opportunistic.'

'While your mum is entirely altruistic bullying control of the Phlegethon task force? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she did it because she was _worried_ -'

'But also she doesn't trust anyone but her to do the job, yes.' Rose sighed. 'Her point was that we shouldn't let Lillian Rourke know things, in case she uses it to exploit us for political gain.'

'If she wants political gain, she _doesn't_ want to tell the world a bunch of under-qualified witches and wizards are flouting international law and chasing Prometheus Thane.'

'Technically we've not broken any laws. Yet.'

He snorted, then winced and took a sip of wine as an obvious delaying tactic. 'I apologised to Selena for yesterday.'

'How'd she take it?'

'In good enough grace. She _had_ been trying to pretend that she didn't give a damn about Jones.'

'I know. I'm sorry. I thought you saw through it. Maybe it's a girl thing.'

He stabbed a goujon as if it had personally wronged him. 'I couldn't pretend. I don't get it.'

'I saw what happens when she stops.' Selena's grief was sufficiently raw that remembering it was enough to send a jolt through her. It was one thing to recall her sobbing over Methuselah's corpse, horrifying though that had been. To see her so desolated months later was something else. 'I don't know how she gets through the day with all of that inside her. I think it would kill me.'

'I think she thought that, too. People can survive a lot.' His lips twitched, and he cocked his head to the side. 'Like this music.'

She had to laugh at that, and the tension of the moment was broken, bringing them from the suffering of their friends and back to Paris by night, and all of the pleasantries it brought. Good wine. Good food. The only company she wanted.

He'd found the place in a guidebook, he admitted bashfully, having trawled the streets of Ile des Roues when the others had been in the library. The restaurant had been recommended as somewhere wizards could find without too much difficulty, where the food was simple but local and high quality, and where a lump sum of a certain amount of money would cover the bill and still bring change, without having to fuss about conversion rates.

He didn't let the evening drift back to serious topics as they ate. He teased about the world tour without discussing chasing Thane, pointed out when one of the musicians was a beat later than the others and then laughed when it became distracting. They talked school, the prospect of going back, how he was finding living with the Potters - normal, everyday things.

Like they were two normal people out for a normal evening meal, instead of locked possibly into a deadly hunt where they could only _hope_ they were the predator.

They were in no rush to finish the evening. With food done they could enjoy a flow of drinks, the square getting quieter as night drew on, able to sit and talk for as long as they liked, but within an hour of their plates being taken away Scorpius deposited a pile of Muggle money on the little tray, muttered something about being generous with tips, then got to his feet and extended a hand to her. 'A walk before we go back?'

'And see more of the city? How could I say no?'

The buildings were thick enough that turning a couple of corners down cobbled roads meant the square was blocked from sight and sound within moments, as if they were cut off from the rest of the world. Just the winding roads, the view stretched out before them of twinkling lights over the rooftops of the city, and him.

So she winced before she spoke. 'There's something I never asked you.'

She felt his hand twitch under hers. 'Sure?' The levity in his voice was forced.

'You can tell me to sod off,' she said. 'I just - I never asked - and you never said - what happened to your mother?'

In the lamp-lit gloom she could see him wince when she looked up, and he stopped at a street corner, shoulders tense. 'My father drove her off,' he said, then hesitated, looking away. 'They were married when - my father had this period, after the war, of _not_ being an arsehole. He travelled, worked in Europe for a bit, married my mum, I was born - and then my grandfather died. And suddenly my father had the family name and wealth and I think he wanted to redeem it. Do something with it. So out with the old money and the idle rich, and in came the investments. The business. And, inevitably, the political influence to get the best contracts, to make sure laws like your mum pushed through didn't stifle him, and it... ate him, I think.

'I don't remember him being a decent bloke. Or a not-a-shit. I only have what I've guessed and heard. I _do_ remember the rows with him and my mum. Him not being around enough. Him being cold and detached, or domineering. He wanted home, Malfoy Manor, to be perfect and run just the way he wanted it - but wasn't around to do it. Family became something to make him look good to the public, not to devote time to. And whatever affection had been between them fizzled out as my mother refused to be a trophy, and he knew less and less how to not treat us as something to make him _look_ good, then take his anger out on us when...'

His voice had grown more and more tense until he looked away, jaw tight, and she stepped in to bring her hands up to his shoulders, letting him speak but keeping close. Eventually he shrugged. 'Yeah. She couldn't take it any more, and left him. Three, four years ago.'

Her thumb stroked the corner of his jaw. 'I didn't know. I'd pieced bits together. I'm sorry.'

He shook his head. 'Don't be. You didn't do it.' Another hesitation. 'I've not heard from her in months. Apparently she's fine. She's just not got in touch.'

'I'm sure there's a good explanation,' Rose lied. Now was not the time to speculate on Astoria Malfoy's lifestyle and motivations.

He nodded - then grinned suddenly, a joke to divert and distract. 'You keep this up, Weasley, and I'll be all out of secrets.'

She gave a falsely sombre nod, content to play along. 'Maybe, but I'm sure you'll find a new way to make yourself intractable.'

'I'm positively _open_ and _cooperative_ these days -'

'You disappeared under an invisibility cloak and just said "trust me". That's not a _plan_, Malfoy, that's barely even a _concept_.'

His brow furrowed with mock-indignation. 'Wait, you didn't know what I'd had in mind, and you dropped a tree on me _anyway_?'

Albus had figured it out, but then, Albus knew better than her what Scorpius' combat capabilities were, and had anticipated the illusion. She shrugged. 'I figured it was a win-win situation.'

'A win-win - I'll have you know that this scheme was one of my _best_.'

'It's brighter than the magical blasting guitar, I grant you.'

'I broke you out of the Headmaster's Office with that!'

'Technically, Methuselah broke us out of the Headmaster's Office. Technically, you just committed a large amount of property damage.' Rose had to smother a smirk as his look of mock-indignation grew. _I've missed this,_ she realised to her own surprise. Bickering with him made the world shrink to this narrow tunnel of verbal strikes, parries, ripostes, of their joint indignation and amusement - and there was nothing, nothing more serious in the world in those moments than winning the row.

The world could burn so long as they could both get off one more retort.

His next retort was the best, the row settled or at least shelved when he stepped forward, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. And the world narrowed even more, to nothing more than the feel of his lips on hers, his arms pulling her to nestle against him, the pounding of her blood in her ears. But before she could summon a reaction, move in any way other than letting herself be helpless in his embrace, he broke the kiss. His nose brushed against hers, close enough for their breath to mingle. 'Fine,' Scorpius whispered. 'You win.'

She wanted to summon a clever retort, but there were none left and her lips were tingling and cold for his absence. So all she could do was mumble incoherently and drag his head down to hers, fingers entangling in his hair, the kiss needy, ardent. She'd watched him disappear under a cloak and go into danger she couldn't see. Watched him get slammed into a wall and choked by a golem. Watched blood well up from his leg from a wound she'd feared fatal. And this was just in the past two days, and she'd had so few opportunities to grab hold of him and remind herself that he was here, real, flesh and blood and _hers_...

A low noise escaped his throat, and the next thing she knew he'd backed her up against the nearest wall, pinning her there with his weight, and she was of no mind to resist. There was nobody here to interrupt them, judge them, nobody expecting them at a certain time, no propriety to observe, and instead of the apprehension that had once boiled in her gut at the free-falling abyss below them, insecurity was gone and all she wanted to do was tumble with him.

She had to turn her head to the side to break the kiss, and his lips trailed along her jaw, making her shiver. 'We should get back,' she said, once she'd found her breath enough to make coherent words, but her fingers curled a fistful of his shirt when he hesitated. 'The hotel. We've got a room. Take me back.'

She wanted to be clear. This was not a request for him to stop. Quite the opposite.

His eyes were wide and dark when he pulled away, chest heaving. It was like the stars were spinning overhead, or perhaps her head was, intoxicated by the wine - only enough to take the edge off - and the feel of him - enough to leave her staggered. 'Right,' he rasped. 'You're sure? I didn't do this to - to pressure you -'

Her fingertips came up to his lips, and she smiled a crooked smile. 'I said you'd be in trouble some day.'

Scorpius didn't smile, gaze deadly serious as he pulled back, grabbed her hand, and cast his gaze about for a street to safely apparate from. The part of Rose's brain that could still think coherently tried to not laugh that she'd let him kiss her like there was no tomorrow and not care if anyone was watching, but magic was still business.

She let him handle the apparition, even if it was a bit wonky, and the next minutes passed in a blur. Stumbling, laughing, out of an alleyway on Ile des Roues. Falling into the hotel lobby and trying to look less like flustered youths desperate to get back to a world of privacy. Creeping into the suite and concluding, with a satisfaction she couldn't quantify, that the others were indeed out.

His lips were back on hers even as they staggered to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them, and she gave up on balance to let them tumble onto the bed in a frantic, thrilled pile. Falling and flying, thought that coherent part of her, were feeling remarkably like one and the same. She might have been apprehensive before - but that was lost in the wind with his hands on her, teasing the fabric of her dress, her lips parting under his with eager invitation. The only apprehension she could remember was _his_, his doubt of her, of them, and all that was left was the burning need to remind him that she'd made her choices, and she'd chosen him. Them. This.

Breath caught in her throat as his kiss trailed along her neck to her shoulder, fingers slipping off the strap of her dress as his other hand slid down, finding bare skin at her knee, her thigh. She reached up with desperation, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, his skin warm and firm under her touch.

There were times she thought she knew him inside and out, even if he didn't say everything, but before them rolled whole new vistas of discovery. Her only regret was the question of how much could be found in one night, because waiting for the next moment was racking enough already.

Her fingers found his belt buckle, tugged it undone, teased -

'Rose -' Then his breath caught, and his lips tore from hers - then her hands were empty and he was pulling away, leaving only cold. And nothing, and for thudding heartbeats Rose lay there on the bed, no longer in a tumble of them both but alone, and with her head spinning it took her a moment to realise that he hadn't just vanished into thin air but pulled away.

She sat up, blinking reality back in, hair wild and one strap dangling off her shoulder. 'Scorpius?' Her voice was hoarse, bewildered.

He was stood at the foot of the bed, shirt off, a hand in his hair, eyes wild. 'I - I'm sorry,' he croaked, and lifted his free hand. 'I can't - I'm sorry - I better -' Not five seconds ago he'd been kissing her like he never wanted to stop, but now he grabbed his discarded shirt and tore for the door like he couldn't get away fast enough.

'...what...?' But he didn't stop, and she couldn't stop him, and he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the bedroom, cold from the sudden loss of his closeness, his warmth, and from the remains of their evening together suddenly and inexplicably turned to ashes.

* * *

_A/N: There__'s… not much to say about this chapter! It never really got worked into the narrative, but the part of Paris Scorp's taken Rose to was Montmartre, the place to go if you want to be terribly, pretentiously bohemian in Paris. Lovely part of the city._

'_Les Deux Mages' is a reference that has shown up in my work before, as a fancy magical hotel/restaurant (readers of the Anguisverse might remember it's where Cal Brynmor and Nat Lockett met up in Beyond This Place). The name is a pun on 'Les Deux Magots', a real-world high-end Parisian café, historically the home of the city's literary elite._

_Oh, and because I anticipate needing to answer this in reviews: No, this chapter does not mean a Matt/Selena romance is guaranteed on the cards. The two of them inevitably interact a lot because they__'re the two "outsiders" from the main Trio, and so it's inevitable that they develop a relationship from this. But despite tonight's entanglement, I have no specific plans for this relationship to be romantic. If it becomes a romance, it will be the chemistry leading me that way. Right now it feels a bit too neat and tidy, in an obligatory manner, for them to hook up. And besides, Selena is too hung up on Methuselah. Matt is too hung up on Rose._

_Anyway, the show must go on!_

_Though there are other shows. Information on my profile is updated if you're interested in any of my professional work - or, frankly, just want to hear me natter some more about mindless shite, writing, fictional worlds, and what I had for breakfast._


End file.
